a tide of hope
by seren23
Summary: "My point being, unless my crew decides that they don't want to give me up for dead, and if what you say is true and no one will come looking for you, then we are very much stranded on this island." Abigail Ashe awakens to find herself shipwrecked on an island. However, she is not alone. Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones, post season 3.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Title is from 'Moon and Sea' by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:  
The tide of hope swells high within my breast,  
And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest  
When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.  
But when that loving face is turned from me,  
Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,  
And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear.  
You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.  
― Moon and Sea by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

* * *

It was the obvious contrast of Abigail's head feeling very warm and her feet feeling very cold that woke her. Her fingers curled into the sandy beach and her eyes opened. Blinking slowly and then quickly, she tried to focus her eyes.

Sand.

Seaweed.

Broken wooden boards.

Her ears identified the sound of the surf and she realised that was why her feet were so cold; waves continually washed over them.

Abigail sat up.

Her head swam and pounded with her movements, but she ignored the pain in favour of staring at the beach she had clearly washed upon.

Trying to make sense of her surroundings, she thought back. She remembered the ship she boarded that left Philadelphia heading towards South America. She remembered practicing her sketches so that the group she travelled with realised her usefulness. She remembered the group of missionaries on board with along with their Bibles and their misguided, if well-meant, ideals. She remembered standing on the deck watching as another ship approached them on the starboard side while a storm stirred port side.

She remembered thunder and lightning and monstrous waves that tore at the sails and the masts and she remembered sliding along the rain-slick deck and falling into the sea and wondering if this was how she died.

Apparently, it wasn't.

With shaky legs, she got to her feet. Her dress was still in one piece, with only a few tears. Her hair was one long mat of snarls and her shoes were heavy with water. She scanned the horizon, hoping to see something, anything, which could be identified as a rescue.

Nothing.

Only waves under a clear blue sky and a rising relentless orange sun.

A groan resounded somewhere on her left and she stumbled back as she looked around.

It was a man.

A very large man lay on his stomach with a flat wooden board pinning him to the ground.

Abigail abandoned her shoes in the sand as she hurried over to him, the sand warm against her stockings. Grasping the edge of the board and biting her lip, she shoved the board off of him; his body rolling over in the process, exposing his face to her.

She froze and stared down at him; all thoughts left her save one.

 _Reverend Abbott was correct,_ she thought as her hand lifted to cover her lips. _The Lord truly works in the most mysterious of ways._

The man she'd once sailed with named Billy Bones groaned once more and then slowly opened his eyes. He blinked up at the sun and then turned his head. Upon seeing Abigail, he stilled and stared.

Abigail stared back, completely unable to say a word.

After a long moment, Billy, with a voice as rough as tree bark, said, "Well, fuck me."

 _Quite_ , Abigail thought.

* * *

After helping him to his feet, they stared at the sea, side by side, and Abigail felt oddly calm. Her head ached and her mouth tasted of salt and she had the feeling that she might be sick sooner rather than later due to all the seawater she suspected she swallowed, but still she felt…calm.

Her journey's aim had been to escape the mundanity of society and judging by the events of the previous night, Mother Nature clearly wished the same for her. So she resolved to do as she had done for the last two years – wait and observe. The time since Charles Town and her father's death had taught her patience, if nothing else and she knew that Mr Bones had to be considering their situation.

She took a moment to look her companion over, if only to reassure herself that it was truly him. He looked much the same as he had on that fateful voyage to Charles Town, if with a few more lines beside his eyes. He hadn't said anything since his initial expletive and seemed content to just stare out at the ocean.

While she hadn't forgotten a moment of her time with Captain Flint's crew, she'd been amongst city dwellers for so long she wasn't exactly used to seeing so much bare skin. His arms had various cuts and scrapes and his upper arm had a nasty looking scar that nearly encircled the muscle. She glanced at his face, only to find him looking at her, one eyebrow arched.

Abigail cleared her throat as he stared down at her, his eyes sharp and bright.

She smiled slightly and said, "I'm very aware that of the two of us, you're the more experienced and knowledgeable person. However, I want to help with whatever you're planning to do. I'm not afraid of hard work."

He looked at her; _really_ looked at her. In a way that she wasn't sure she'd ever been looked at before; his eyes seemed to take all of her in, her words, her body, everything. She fought the urge to fidget under his gaze as her body flushed from the examination and simply stared back.

"What makes you think I have a plan?" he asked after some time.

"You don't have a plan?" she asked. "You're the ship's boatswain, I assumed—"

"I'm a man overboard," he corrected her. "I'm quite possibly considered lost at sea. If you're expecting a ship to suddenly appear on that horizon to pick us up, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed."

"They won't look for you?" she asked looking out at the endless horizon, the waves far calmer than they'd been the night before.

"They might," he said rubbing his jaw. "But we were limping when that squall came upon us. They'll need to make repairs before they even consider mounting any kind of a search. _If_ they decide to mount a search."

"But…" she trailed off and bit her lip.

She felt his eyes on her. "But—what?" he asked.

"I had the impression that the crew thought very highly of you," she said. "They certainly seemed to when I last was in your company."

He chuckled and leaned down to pluck a shell from the sand that he turned over in his hands.

"'Thinking highly' of a man doesn't always mean a search party," he said. "And the captain has other things on his mind than a potentially drowned boatswain."

He drew his arm back and threw the shell a great distance with a mere flick of his wrist. Abigail watched it skim across the surface of the water before it disappeared into an oncoming wave.

"I believe the more pertinent question here is, will someone come looking for you?" he asked turning to face her.

Abigail stared out at the ocean before shaking her head and giving voice to the sad truth that had been whispering in the back of her mind since she awoke, "No. No one will come looking for me, Mr Bones. I'm quite alone."

* * *

Billy didn't believe her.

Not just about no one looking for her; he was having a very hard time believing in _her_ ; in her actual presence on this beach beside him.

When he'd come to and saw her standing over him, her head haloed by the rising sun, he'd honestly believed he was dead and she was some sort of angel.

But then he saw the state of her and knew that no angel would look so earthly. Her simple blue dress was torn along one shoulder and Billy could see her chemise peeking through the ripped fabric. She had a scrape on her temple and another on her cheek. He knew he wasn't much better. His fingers ached from clinging to ropes during the storm and then to God only knew what whilst he was in the water.

iAt least the company is a fair sight better looking than the previous bunch I washed up on/i, he thought.

Still, he reached down for another shell to give his hands something to do as well as to stop himself for reaching out to touch her to make sure she was real and not some strange fever dream.

"I find that hard to believe," he said skimming the shell. "Your family –"

"My closest relatives live in England, and by closest, I actually refer to some distant cousins who have no wish to be associated with me," she said. "After my father's death, I lived with some friends of his in Savannah and then in Philadelphia." He watched her out of the corner of his eye and saw her lift up her chin. "I reached my majority six months ago and had no further need of their support."

He frowned and shook his head. "Miss Ashe-"

"Abigail," she said looking at him. "Please. Call me Abigail."

"Right," he said. "Right, well then, Abigail, you're a very long way from Philadelphia, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Her cheeks coloured at his language and he felt a slight pang of remorse for being so blunt, but he needed to know what she was about and hell, he was a pirate, wasn't he? He wasn't going to tidy up his language for her.

"I assume you mean what was I doing on the _Hadley_ ," she said and he realised she meant the name of the ship they'd come upon in the squall. "I was travelling to the coast of Brazil on a nature expedition. The Philadelphia Nature Society wants to embark on a study of the tropics."

Billy stared at her, certain that she was speaking English, but unable to fully understand her.

"You were travelling on a…nature expedition?" he asked, attempting to wrap his head around any woman voluntarily going on a voyage of that sort.

"As I said," she said, her eyes glancing to his and then away.

"And they were letting you?" he asked. "A woman on an expedition?"

"They had no choice," she said, that chin of hers lifting once more.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm funding the expedition," she said. "They had to allow me to accompany them or I wouldn't let them touch a cent."

He stared at her. "You funded an expedition?"

"You say that as though it was something beyond the pale," she said frowning. "I assure you, expeditions are funded by private individuals all the time."

"Are they funded by single young women?" he retorted and her cheeks flushed once more. "Right, thought not."

"I don't see how I choose to spend my inheritance has any bearing on our present situation," she said, her voice soft but firm with only the slightest of wavers.

"It has bearing because I'm trying to determine if the people you've invested in will come looking for the woman who holds their purse strings," he said.

She looked out at the ocean. "I've already told you, no, they won't. I've already given them as much as I could and they made it quite clear that I was responsible for my own well-being. Were I to perish or injure myself on this trip, they would only do the bare minimum to assist."

"Charming people you travelled with," he said.

"Travelled with far worse," she replied sharply before she looked away frowning. "I beg your pardon. I wasn't referring to you and your men."

"Be all right if you were. And you wouldn't be all that far from the truth," he said easily. "But I'd like to think we wouldn't tell a woman that she was on her own and that she had to either sink or swim. Did you truly head out to the South Americas without a companion?"

"I made sure that we timed our departure to coincide with a group of missionaries," she said. "There were another two women in their party and I spent most of my time with them. Although, they were quite clear in their disapproval of me, as well." She faced him. "Mr Bones, I'm very sorry to repeat it, but no one will come looking for me."

He furrowed his brow and looked out at the sea. Making a decision, he pointed. "Do you see that line of surf out there? Beyond the still of the bay, where the waves are crashing?"

"Yes," she said looking at where he indicated, her hand rising to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun.

"This island is uninhabited because of that reef out there," he said. "It's a sharp line of rock and coral that circles this island and it will rip a small boat to shreds unless you catch the tide and the angles right. It's difficult enough with a full crew of men. And it's nigh on impossible with only one. And a man would have to be either a fool or a drunk to attempt it on his own."

"And you are neither," she said matter-of-factly.

It was his turn for his cheeks to flush, but he just cleared his throat and nodded. "My point being, unless my crew decides that they don't want to give me up for dead, and if what you say is true and no one will come looking for you..."

"Go ahead, Mr Bones," she said softly looking up at him, clearly comprehending what he was about to say. "You may say it aloud."

Billy took a deep breath and faced the ocean once more as he said, "We are very much stranded on this island."

* * *

A/N: Oh, if you've made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it and we're in for a long one! This story has taken over my brain and I have serious plans for these two. I wish I could say that I'll update weekly, but life has a way of getting hectic this time of year. However, I have this whole thing outlined from start to finish and I'm in it for the long haul. Do let me know what you think!


	2. On the Island I

A/N: I have changed where Abigail set off from to Williamsburg as Philadelphia wasn't completely established by the early 1700s whereas Williamsburg had almost completed building the College of William and Mary.

Apart from that, I'm going to be playing rather fast and loose with some of the history of the region, but hopefully not to an unreasonable degree.

There is a scene in this chapter that was directly influenced by a similar scene in the film iFirst Knight/i with Richard Gere, Julia Ormond and Sean Connery (and I've probably just really dated myself with this!).

And finally - massive, tremendous 'Thank you's' to everyone who has commented, followed, or kudoed! I'm so, so happy you're enjoying this.

* * *

Stranded.

The word that had lurked in the corner of her thoughts from the moment she awoke on the shore, now echoed in forefront of Abigail's mind after Billy said it out loud.

"I see," she said slowly looking out at the waves crashing against the reef and the vast sea beyond it. "If that reef is so dangerous, how did we manage to make it over it without…"

She couldn't finish her sentence.

"It's not impossible," he said. "The storm would've created a decent surge and would have carried anything over it with a fair amount of ease. Still, we were lucky."

Lucky? Abigail wasn't sure she would have used that particular word.

All of the warnings her guardians and acquaintances and well-meaning strangers, and even those she travelled with clamoured in her head and for a moment, her vision swam with their remonstrations. But she clenched her hand into a fist as she said, "What would you suggest we do?"

Billy arched an eyebrow at her and she noticed him glance at her fist, but he just said, "First things first, we sift through what's washed up from the ships. There could be something useful and if there is, I don't want it getting swept back out." He squinted at the sun as he said, "It's still morning and the tide's on its way out."

"Very well," she said glad to be given something to do and suspected that was his original intention. "What is considered useful?"

"Rope," he said shrugging. "Any good pieces of wood. Metal. You'll know when you see it."

She nodded.

"Look," he said bending his head slightly to meet her eyes. "There are three things that we'll need to get through this: water, food and shelter." He pointed at the sky. "That's sun's going to get bright and relentless and we'll want something that will give us some shade. Especially if the other two things are in short supply."

Abigail looked up and down the beach and figured she could almost see the entire length of the island from where she stood. "It's not very large, is it? The island?"

"Nah," he said as he looked over at the tree line. "But there may be a small lagoon further inland. Could be fresh water. We'll check."

"I'll start looking in this direction," she said and without waiting for him to comment, she headed right, back towards the spot where she washed upon. As she walked away from him, she felt tremors begin in her hands and her stomach churned.

Stranded.

Every snide comment made about her chances flooded her mind, try as she might to dismiss them.

She lifted a broken piece of wood and tossed it away from the outgoing surf as the voice of her former guardian, Mrs Potter, spoke shrilly in her head.

 _Oh, my girl, you can't mean to just board a ship? I know you worry for your reputation, well, what remains of it, that is. What good will going out there do you?_

Abigail frowned at a crab that scuttled not far from her feet and she stared down at her dirty stockings where they just barely covered her feet. She spotted her abandoned shoes and moved them away from the water's edge, but didn't put them back on.

 _No, no,_ the voice of Mrs Potter carried on in her mind. _Now, that dear Nigel Overton is quite willing to overlook your family's indiscretions and the questionable circumstances you found yourself in. I dare say he'll make you a reasonable husband._

 _Nigel Overton, of the wandering hands and hefty gambling debts,_ Abigail thought angrily as she plucked what resembled a bucket of some sorts from the surf. _A 'reasonable' husband indeed._

She flung the bucket with a bit more force than she meant to and it went flying up the beach. Biting her lip, she glanced over at Mr Bones to see him watching her with a funny expression. His eyes flickered towards the bucket several yards away and arched an eyebrow.

Cheeks burning, she attempted a smile and turned her back to him.

 _Oh, Abigail,_ she thought helplessly. _What have you done? What are you doing here?_

She worried her lip and rubbed her forehead, wincing when her fingers brushed over a scrape on her temple.

"You're a mess, my girl," one of the missionary ladies had said upon their first night aboard the _Hadley_. "But you can read well enough. Although, I don't hold with this exploring business." She'd sniffed and held out her Bible for Abigail to read aloud to them. "No, you and your troubled soul would be better off coming with us. Only the Lord Almighty can provide you with the deliverance you so clearly are in need of."

Lifting a soggy bit of heavy rope that had sunk into the wet sand, Abigail wondered if the missionary woman had been right. Her soul was in need of something, she knew that much; she simply didn't know what it was that she needed.

 _Escape_ , her thoughts said. _You were looking for an escape and well…you certainly managed one, didn't you?_

Lugging the rope away from the water's edge, Abigail struggled to keep her breath steady as her heart sped up as the severity of her situation demanded to be acknowledged.

 _You are stranded_ , she thought wildly. _Perhaps this is your deserved punishment for trying to rebuke society. For being a silly, careless girl._

She dropped the rope and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, her stomach twisting into knots and her dry throat burning with suppressed tears of frustration. Blindly, she turned back towards the surf and walked along it's edge towards a bundle of white tarp that billowed in the mild breeze.

 _Abigail Grace, you have always been such a good girl,_ a voice very much like her father's said. _But I fear that you are going to die on this island._

Tears finally forced themselves up from her throat to sting the backs of her eyes even as she reached down to tug at the tarp.

It barely budged.

She frowned and tugged again. Something clearly weighed it down as it moved a scant inch in her direction.

Her tears evaporated and she narrowed her eyes. _I may very well die here, but I did not spend the last two years biding my time to secure my independence to be defeated by a scrap of fabric._

Setting her jaw and gripping the edge of the tarp with both her hands, she pulled as hard as she could.

The tarp gave way and the object pinning it to the sand lurched up and onto Abigail, knocking her flat on her back.

With a forced exhale of her breath, she lifted her head to see what had landed on her and upon realising what it was that held her down, she gave a strangled cry.

Unseeing eyes in a swollen and bruised face fixed upon her face as what had recently been a crew member on the _Hadley_ pinned her to the beach.

"No," she said weakly as she tried to dislodge the body; her hands sinking into the wet sand as she tried to move backwards. With a sob, she pushed at the dead weight on her legs and winced at how cold the body felt to the touch.

Firm, warm, living hands suddenly tucked themselves under her arms and pulled her easily up and away from the body which thudded face down to the ground with a horrible dull sound.

Her mind and stomach whirling, she was set down on the ground and turned to face Mr Bones.

"It's all right," he said positioning himself between her and the body. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head as she said, "No, no, I'm not hurt. I'm only…" She sucked in a breath and swayed on her feet; his hands immediately cupped her shoulders steadying her. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the body. "Fairly sure he was dead before you got to him."

A high-pitched giggle erupted from her and she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified with herself. "No, not that. I meant… Oh, what am I doing here? I'm going to prove them all right! I have absolutely no business being here. I'm a silly, stupid girl and they'll all be proven so, so, so bloody _right_."

She watched as his eyes widened as he gazed down at her and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see him realise, because he was sure to realise, just how much of a fool she'd been. She hated knowing that this man, this man who she'd thought of repeatedly over the years, who had probably never suffered from a moment of indecision in his life, thought badly of her.

He removed his hands from her shoulders and she felt her heart sink.

"On one of my first trips with a proper crew, we got washed up on a beach after a nasty squall busted up the main mast," he said, his voice even and, dare she think it, friendly. "Water was running low and we were on shortened rations and naturally, the island was more of a sandbar than an island, so no water."

Abigail opened her eyes to look at him while he looked out at the sea, a half grin on his face as he remembered something only he could see.

"Not two hours in, do these two brainless fuc- uh, men," he said with a glance at her, "start picking a fight with each other. Pushing turned to shoving which turned into a full-blown brawl. Fifteen minutes later, they'd hit each other so hard, they were flat out on their backs, knocked out."

Abigail smiled a little and looked down.

"Now," he continued, "do you know what the difference is between you and them?"

She looked up to see him staring down at her with something that she supposed was amusement. She blinked and said, "I'm not likely to attempt to brawl with you?"

He smirked, and oh heavens, what was her stomach trying to do now? "The difference, Miss Ashe, is that you're still on your feet."

Abigail was certain that he was only helping her to maintain her spirits so that he didn't have to worry about a hysterical female on top of all of their other worries. Nevertheless, it was a very kind thing for him to say and she appreciated it terribly.

"Thank you, Mr Bones," she said smiling up at him. "I believe I take your meaning."

"Billy," he said. "Just Billy."

She nodded. "Billy."

He cleared his throat and turned to look at the unfortunate body on the beach. "He's not crew. You recognize him?"

"He was on the _Hadley_ ," Abigail said walking around to stand beside Billy and look down at the body. "I think he worked the rigging. I'm afraid I don't know his name."

"Poor bugger," he said frowning. "Neck's broken. Probably was wrenched from the rigging in the storm. Over before he knew it was happening, I'd wager."

"All the same," Abigail murmured. She glanced up at Billy and then away. "How do-? Do we bury him?"

He made a face as he shook his head. "No shovels. Best to let the sea take him."

"What about the reef?" she asked looking out at the surf still crashing in the distance.

"The sea will sort him out," he said as he knelt down to pull the tarp away from the body.

Abigail stared out at the sea in confusion before realizing that Billy merely meant that the sea _creatures_ would take care of the body. The thought didn't disturb her as much as she imagined it should and simply watched as Billy checked the man's pockets. Small bits of coin and a thin knife were all he recovered and he pocketed the coin before slipping the knife into his own belt.

Then he stood and after scanning the beach, he walked off to pick up a sizeable rock. Realising what he was about, Abigail knelt and undid the man's sash so that the rock could be tied to his body. Ignoring those sad, dead eyes, she moved out of the way as Billy held the rock with one hand and tried to shift the body into the outgoing tide.

Unable to just let him do the unpalatable task alone, she bent down and with both her hands she helped to push the deceased crew member into the water.

The body floated just beneath the surface of the water and Billy said, "I've got it."

Abigail stopped and watched him push the body further into the surf. Waves swept into her legs, soaking her drying skirts and the sand beneath her feet shifted as she stood still.

Billy walked until the water was up to his chest, which meant he was a fair ways from shore, then he quickly tied the rock to the body and let go. He turned and headed back to the shore, while Abigail stood staring at the place where the body was sinking.

He joined her and stared out at the water.

"Please do excuse my outburst earlier," she said after saying a short prayer in her head for the man. "But, please, tell me. What are our chances for survival?" He hesitated and she added, "Do be honest. Please."

He let out a deep sigh and propped his hands on his hips, his right hand fingered the short sword on his belt.

"We have enough driftwood for a shelter. That board you found me under will work well," he said at long last. "We have whatever the ocean provides for food. The one thing I'm uncertain off is fresh water." He nodded inland. "But we can determine that next. If there's a decent source of water, we'll survive. Provided neither of us kills the other first."

Abigail smiled slightly as she looked at him. "I have no immediate plans to do away with you."

"Always good to hear," he said chuckling, before swallowing and looking out to sea. "It isn't survival I'm concerned about…"

"It's being rescued," she finished for him and he nodded.

"We're on a well-travelled route," he said. "So there'll be ships coming and going. We can set up a fire and see if that beckons anyone closer."

"What if they aren't people we wish to beckon?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Deal with that when we have to," he said shrugging. He glanced quickly at her and then inland. "Right. Water, yeah?"

He turned and headed towards the trees. Abigail glanced once more at where the unfortunate sailor rested and then hurried after Billy.

* * *

Billy wasn't surprised the girl had finally shown some emotion and had her little…moment. Hell, no one liked having a corpse fall on them. And in any case, he figured that he was on the verge of something similar and it was really only her presence that kept his own frustration at bay. As it was, he was worried. Very worried. Dehydration was horrific and the time spent in the Doldrums weighed heavily on his mind.

But beyond that, it was the idea that he could be here for a long period of time that bothered him the most. He truly had no idea if Flint and Silver would consider returning for him without substantial proof that he survived. He knew what the crew said about him, about his luck being the strong after surviving torture at the hands of the British, but that didn't mean they'd force anyone into looking for him. He wanted to think they'd spare some thought for him, but with their hands full from being on the verge of war and attempting to maintain some kind of ceasefire while they all figured out how best to serve everyone's interests, he supposed he figured quite low in their list of priorities.

 _You're on your own, lad_ , Gates' voice said not unkindly in his head. _You'll manage. You always do._

Hoping that his ghosts were right about him, he pushed the worries of the outside world to the back of his mind as he stepped into the trees and looked around. Palms trees with clumps of palmettos and island heather around their bases were mixed in with shorter bushes of cocoa plums. He noticed that some already had fruit on them and knew they'd be fine to eat later. The island was a bit bigger than he thought and there had to be some source of water. He swallowed and his dry throat scratched at him.

Looking up into the canopy of trees, he grinned.

"Come here," he said over his shoulder as he walked forward, reaching up to take hold of the stem of a large leaf.

He turned to watch her approach, those big, dark eyes of her wide with caution and a decent hint of curiosity. And, God, he was going to have to be careful with her. She had a steel of spine, he knew from what he'd been told of what she'd been through, but that didn't make her impervious to everything. He also believed that there was more to her story that she was telling; you didn't just uproot yourself out of civilization on a whim.

She stood beside him and he jerked his head, as he tugged her to stand in front of him. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

"I beg your pardon?" she asked quickly darting from under his arm, her eyes flashing.

"It's fine," he said chuckling. "Look."

He faced the leaf and tilted the stem just so and a thin stream of water poured from the leaf into his mouth.

It was lukewarm and dusty-tasting rainwater, but it was still water. He swallowed and tipped another leaf into his mouth, the liquid easing the dry of his throat.

She laughed and said, "That's incredible!"

"Your turn," he said, taking hold of another leaf. This time, she moved to stand in front of him without hesitation and opened her mouth. Her head barely reached his shoulder and he looked around her to aim the leaf at her mouth.

The trickle of water hit her chin first, but she just grinned and then ducked her head so that the water fell into her mouth. She got a mouthful before it had finished and it trickled out of the corners of her mouth as she closed it, her hand coming up to cover her lips. Not wanting any of it to go to waste, Billy leaned over her and drank the rest of the water that streamed from the leaf.

He looked down to see her looking up at him, her eyes bright, and her lips wet with rainwater. An uncomfortable sensation spread through his body, but he ignored it as he asked, "More?"

"Yes, please," she said smiling.

They drank from another two leaves each before Billy moved them further inland.

"That was very clever," she said as she walked a short pace behind him.

"Always pays to know where the rain collects," he said. "Just keep a weather eye out for the spiders."

"Spiders?" He glanced back to see her standing still as she stared at him.

He smirked. "Large ones with hairy legs."

Her eyes widened and darted up to look at the canopy above their heads.

Taking pity on her, he said, "They're all right. Just big. They might bite but it'll only sting a bit. It's the little ones that'll do you in. The big ones are harmless."

"Is that right?" she asked, those eyes of hers falling to stare into his, and he wondered just when the subject had moved on from spiders?

"Yeah," he said looking her in the eye. "Well, mostly."

The corners of her mouth twitched and he was reminded of that moment when he first had his proper look at her, in the belly of that Spanish warship, over a darkened table, when this girl who didn't know him from Adam smiled at him. Billy ducked his head and started walking again.

"How wide is the island?" she asked.

"Not sure," he said brushing a low hanging vine out of his way and hers. "It's about a mile long, but I've never been close enough to worry about the middle of it. Always figured it was too small to provide a worthwhile hideaway, even if you could get past the reef."

"If there's no proper source of water, what do we do?" she asked.

"Pray for rain," he said, only half kidding. He glanced over his shoulder noticing that she was doing quite well keeping up with his long strides. He also noticed she had no shoes and only stockings that were beginning to tear on her feet. He shortened his strides.

"The expedition leaders spoke of alternative ways to find water," she said. "However, that dealt with flora that I imagine aren't native to these islands."

"Most likely not," he said, "but do you smell that?"

She paused and breathed in, wrinkling her nose. "Is that rain?"

"More like a small lagoon," he said. "If it's fresh water, I think we'll be able to manage."

She brightened. "Truly?"

"We'll see," he said walking on.

"I imagine you've experienced far worse situations than this," she said.

"I've had my fair share of the bad," he said. "This isn't the worst, though. Not by far. The last time I washed up on a shore it certainly wasn't with a pretty girl as my companion."

He walked a few more paces before realizing that she'd stopped again. He turned and noticed her wide eyes and stiff posture. What had he said?

Fuck.

He'd called her pretty.

Well, she was, wasn't she?

Did she not want him thinking that way about her? Too fucking bad. The sun rose in the east and set in the west and Miss Abigail Ashe was very pretty. That was just fact.

He frowned and was about to tell her so when he noticed her hands were clenched into fists and she looked on the verge of running. Christ, was she…afraid of him?

Flint's explanation of who had first captured her crashed into his thoughts and he straightened.

Shit.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not… Look, Christ knows that I've done things in my life that I've got no hope in hell for atoning for, but not that. Never that. And fuck knows I've crewed with men who would. It's not right and I would never. I swear to you."

She still didn't move, but he thought her shoulders had eased some. He stepped towards her slowly until he was right in front of her, her head tilted back as she watched him with a blank expression and those wonderfully dark eyes.

"I swear to you that we'll get through this," he said. "I'll protect you, Abigail. And that means from me. I'll not lay a hand on you, I promise."

She continued to study him and he had the absurd urge to just fall to his knees and tell her to take her time looking him over. However, he just held her gaze.

Eventually, she said, "I trust you, Billy."

He waited, but it seemed that was all she'd say and truthfully, it was all he needed to hear.

With a sharp nod, he turned and walked on.

Christ, what was he doing? The girl had a way of disarming him utterly and that wasn't good. He needed his wits about him and a steady hand. Or else they'd both die here.

Beams of sunlight through the trees highlighted a direction and he spotted a break in the foliage. Smiling to himself, he spotted flashes of light on the surface of a pool of water and soon he heard the sound of running water.

"Is that-?" she asked behind him.

"Looks like," he said picking up the pace. He stepped on a thick branch that snapped and to his right, he heard a rushing sound.

"Look out!" she shouted.

Without thinking, Billy turned, throwing an arm around Abigail's waist, pulling them both to the ground as something sharp struck his shoulder.


	3. On the Island II

A/N: Thank you so very much for all your reviews and follows! I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

Abigail fell to the ground with an 'oomph' that turned into a gasp as Billy landed atop her. He grunted as something wooden struck and splintered into pieces against his shoulder. He hunched over her, protecting her face from the bits of wood that fell around them. She pressed her face against his bicep and held as still as possible.

When it seemed that no further 'attacks' were to be endured, she turned her head to try to meet his eyes. She watched as he kept absolutely still but as her eyes were drawn to the jump of his pulse in his throat, she became aware of _everything_.

The weight of his body on top of hers, the way he smelled of the sea and sweat, the way her own body was so very soft and slight compared to his. In a secret, quiet part of herself, these details thrilled her and she pushed the excitement down as best she could. As if to echo her thoughts, her hand rose to press lightly on his chest.

His head snapped down and his eyes flared as he stared down at her. He lifted his torso from her, bracketing her head with either hand flat on the ground.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I fear I should be asking you that. Are you injured? What struck you?"

He looked over his shoulder and rose completely off her to rest on his haunches, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the instrument that struck him. He rolled his shoulders causing the muscles in his chest to shift under his shirt and goodness, that thrill of hers certainly refused to stay suppressed.

She sat up, scooting back to regain some distance between them.

"It was that," he said nodding at something that still dangled from a tree from an old rope. It looked as though a bundle of sticks had been tied together, but now they seemed to fall apart even as they watched.

Abigail tilted her head and asked, "Is that some sort of…weapon?"

"No," he said getting to his feet and brushing twigs from his head and shoulders. "More of a warning." He squinted. "But to warn who?"

Abigail looked around and a dull glint off of tarnished metal caught her eye. But it was what the metal was attached to that made her suck in a gasp.

Billy glanced at her and she pointed. "Perhaps, it was to warn him?"

He looked in the direction she indicated and straightened when he also spotted the skeleton propped up against a palm tree, nearly hidden and overgrown with moss and other plants.

"Shit," she heard Billy mutter, then he said, "Stay there," as he walked towards the remains still wearing what looked like armour.

 _Well, that's two dead bodies in one day, Abigail,_ she thought, shakily getting to her feet and smoothing her hopelessly rumpled dress. _You couldn't be happy with simply flaunting society, you had to develop bizarre morbid tendencies, as well_.

Ignoring Billy's edict to stay put, she walked over to where he inspected the skeleton. As she walked, she could feel one of her garters loosening by the second and it wouldn't be long before she said to the devil with decorum and took it off.

"Who was he?" she asked when she was close enough to see that it wasn't so much a suit of armour that he still wore, but a rounded breastplate complete with a long thin sword at his side. A discarded helmet lay on his other side.

"Spanish," Billy said brushing some of the plants aside.

"Spanish?" she repeated. "But he's been here for some time, has he not?"

"So have the Spanish," Billy answered. "They've been sailing all over this part of the world for years. Not to mention things tend to rot faster in this heat and wet. But I'd still say that he was one of the first of them."

"The Conquistadors?" she asked, stepping to have a closer look and crouching beside him to look at the helmet. "Do you really think so?"

"Came across a small stash once, years ago," he said. "There were helmets and breastplates like this with some gold coin."

He flicked the breastplate and Abigail flinched as the skeleton shifted slightly to the left.

"Is he alone?" she asked glancing around, catching Billy's eye as he raised his eyebrows at her. "I mean, will there be any more bodies?"

"Had enough of them today, have you?" he asked, practically echoing her own thoughts, even as he smirked.

"Yes, actually," she said. "Quite enough."

He chuckled as he rose to his feet. "Yeah, I think he was the only one left. Died of some kind of illness, maybe. Or injury. Hell, even old age. They left him here and he set that thing up to warn him if anyone was coming."

"But that would mean…" Abigail's voice trailed off.

"That no one ever came back for him?" he finished for her. "Yeah. Something like that. And it's been a fair few years. That thing was falling apart long before we got here. Otherwise it may have done more damage."

"You never did answer me, are you all right?" she asked peering at his shoulder.

"Just a tap," he said. "Had worse."

"Oh, I'm sure certain of that," she said without thinking and her cheeks burned as he grinned briefly. "Do you think there will be any more of them? Traps, I mean?"

"Possibly," he said. "But the more pressing question is what was he left behind to keep an eye on?"

She blinked up at him. "Oh. Oh! Do you really think…? You can't mean…?"

"Treasure?" he said before shrugging. "You'd be surprised at the things the Spanish are always misplacing."

"Oh," she said looking down at the skeleton. "But this island is so small?"

"Never underestimate a man's determination to protect his investment," he said. "Or what can make a decent hiding place. Let's keep going."

"Are we just going to leave him here?"

"He's not in the way," he said. "And skeletons have a habit of falling apart when you try to move them. Do you want to have to put him back together?"

"Not particularly," she admitted and even though he ducked his head, she caught sight of his smile anyway. It sent a little tendril of warmth through her and once again, she did her best to supress her thoughts as they also turned warm.

"Let's see what water there is," he said walking on towards the break in the trees up ahead.

He walked just in front of her, clearly stepping carefully as he went, and Abigail stayed as close to him as she dared. When they reached the opening in the trees where the sun shone through, she breathed a sigh of relief. A small pool of water rippled gently in a bowl-like depression in some large rocks.

Billy walked over to the pool and cupped some water in his hand. His tongue darted out to taste it, then he drank all of it. He bowed his head and sighed. Abigail's heart sank and she wondered if she needed to start praying immediately for rain.

"Oh," she whispered, pressing a hand to her stomach.

He lifted his head and looked at her over his shoulder. And grinned.

"It's fresh."

Her eyes widened. "What? You mean…? Oh, you wicked, wicked man!"

She hurried over to his side as he laughed and said, "Come and drink your fill."

"You're terrible," she murmured before cupping the water in her hands and taking long slow sips of water. It was slightly fresher than the water she'd sipped from the leaves, but still lukewarm. She wrinkled her nose. "What is the source of this?"

"Rain," he said before scrubbing his face with wet hands. "It collects here." With droplets still clinging to his nose and chin, he pointed to the top of the pile of boulders that reached well above them. "It also collects up there and then runs down the side of the rock to land here."

"Won't it dry out?" she asked, following his example and splashing some water on her face and neck.

"Rain fall is fairly regular here," he said. "But we shouldn't use more than we need."

She paused mid-splash and glanced at him. He grinned again and she felt her own mouth quirk upwards in response.

"Go ahead," he nodded to her. "I'll tell you when we need to conserve our rations."

She smiled briefly before cupping some more water in her hands to drink. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand and firmly ignoring an outraged squawk in her mind at her manners that reminded her of her former school mistress, she sat up and looked at their surroundings.

 _It resembles a glen_ , she thought. If not for the sound of the surf behind them and the palm trees, she could almost believe she was in England at her family's estate. There had been a lovely park nearby that all the local children, including Abigail, had run about in before they were deemed too old. There had even been a small pond filled with minnows and Abigail wondered if she remembered how to correctly construct a net for catching fish. Their kindly groundskeeper had shown them all how to set a snare as well.

 _Perhaps a snare would be useful_ , she thought before she grimaced. Her unruly garter was certainly coming undone. _And little wonder. I'm surprised I still have them both about my person after being tossed about in the ocean_.

She got to her feet and spotted a dense thicket of what she thought may be palmettoes and knew they could provide her with some privacy. In any addition to her wayward garter, there were…other things she needed to see to.

She took a step away but a hand shot out and grasped her wrist. With a gasp, she stared down at his hand as it completely encircled her wrist (and then some) before meeting his eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asked casually, as though he grabbed women's wrists all the time.

 _Perhaps he does_ , the terrible secret thrill inside of her whispered giddily.

"I was…" She swallowed. "I was hoping for some privacy."

"Why?" he asked bluntly, but without any malice that she could see.

She opened her mouth to prevaricate, but the very real warmth of his hand wrapped so blatantly around her wrist dispelled any notion that she needed to assume any kind of subtlety. "I have private…bodily matters that I wish to attend to."

Once again, the corners of his mouth twitched and she flushed knowing she'd amused him yet again. He let her go and her body swayed towards him before she stopped herself and clasped her hands together.

"Attend away," he said, gesturing with his hand.

She nodded as sedately as she could with her face flaming away, and turned towards the bushes.

"Wait," he said behind her.

Gritting her teeth, she turned back to him. He rose to his feet and reached for his belt. She watched as he removed the slim knife he'd recovered from the dead sailor. Flipping it lightly, he held it by the blade and offered the hilt to her.

Far too surprised to question what she was doing, she took it in her hand. It felt warm in her grip, as though the heat of his body had been captured in the metal. She stared at the knife in her hand and then up at him.

He stared back at her, then lifted his eyebrows. "The sharp bit goes into a soft bit," he said demonstrating a jabbing motion with his hand.

"Yes, thank you," she said. "I had gathered that much."

She pursed her lips, astonished that she had been so sharp, but he just smiled mildly.

"Then you're ahead of most people," he said. "First sign of trouble, jab first and then yell. I'll come."

"Oh, I know you will," she said meeting his eyes.

They both looked away when their eyes met and, flustered and embarrassed and everything in between, Abigail headed off towards the palmettoes. She thought she heard him mutter something under his breath and when she snuck a glance before slipping behind the bushes, she saw him submerge his entire head into the pool.

 _Well,_ she thought as she ducked behind the large fronds. _It is terribly warm here._

She stood for a moment in the relative privacy, just holding the knife in her hands. She wasn't altogether certain that it would do her much good if she ran into true trouble; she had far more faith in Billy's bare hands than her dubious skill at jabbing.

 _And what hands they are,_ a little voice whispered in her mind. Her wrist still felt warm as though his touch on her skin was akin to the leather cuffs he wore on his own wrists.

After holding perfectly still for a moment, her self-resolve finally faltered and the knife slipped from her hand as she slumped, wrapping her arms around her waist. She bowed her head as the panic that had simmered earlier threatened to once again bubble over. She allowed herself a few more seconds of emotion before firmly putting a lid on them and setting her jaw, and then she gathered her skirts in one hand and took care of some very pressing matters.

When she was done, she kept her skirts in hand and spotting a small log, she propped her left foot on it. She tugged at her already loosened garter and it slipped undone.

As she dropped it to the ground and moved to remove her other garter, she heard Billy call, "All right?"

Startled, she wobbled a little, but called, "Yes! Just another moment, if you please?"

He made no further reply and she untied her remaining garter. After taking a deep breath, Abigail slipped one stocking and then the other down her leg, removing them completely. She took a moment to catalogue the map of bruises and minor cuts on her legs that she must have accumulated during her time in the sea.

She dropped her skirts and let them brush about her bare legs as she swished them into place. Adjusting her stays, she realised that already she felt cooler and less encumbered. The next thing to go would most likely be her petticoat. She knew that eventually she'd want some cloth for washing and it was the most likely substitute she had. As it was, she regarded her stockings and garters and wondered what to do with them.

The discarded knife caught her eye and she knew what she needed to do.

Taking both stockings in hand, she wound them around her waist once, and tied them so that the ends hung just at her side. She then slipped the knife into her makeshift sash and held still a moment. Satisfied that it was as secure as she could hope for, she did her best to untangle her hair, which she quickly plaited into one long braid. She tied one garter around the end and flipped the long plait over her shoulder so that it hung down her back.

She tied her remaining garter around her wrist.

The same wrist that Billy had clasped, but she didn't dwell on how it felt that by tying the scrap of fabric she had somehow captured the feel of his palm on her skin.

Taking one last moment to settle herself, she left the privacy of the palmettos and returned to the pool.

And him.

* * *

After hearing her reply that she needed another moment, Billy dunked his head into the pool of rainwater and held it there for a good few seconds. When he sat back up, he rubbed his face with his wet hands vigorously and then just stared down into the water. The water stilled only to ripple when water dripped from his face. He listened and he thought he could hear Abigail moving behind the bushes. Realizing that he certainly shouldn't be listening, he stood up quickly and went back to the Spanish skeleton.

 _This means something,_ he thought staring down at the weathered bones. _You don't just leave someone like this_. His gaze moved to the small trees around him. _There's gold on this island._

The thought worried him as much as it excited him. However, he knew that even if he was to find a cave full of treasures in the next few minutes, it wouldn't do him much good considering he had no way to transport himself off the bloody island, let alone anything else.

He crouched down and carefully slid the Spaniard's blade from its scabbard. It was a rapier, longer and straighter than his own blade. The metal was well-formed and he hefted it in his hand, appreciating the lightness.

Standing and pointing it out in front of him, he could tell it was well made and a decent weapon. He wasn't as accomplished a swordsman as Flint or Vane, but he could hold his own. He tried out a few thrusts and parries, before slashing the blade through a vine to test the sharpness. It cut through the vine, but he felt it stick before slicing through and knew he'd have to sharpen it later.

His attention was caught by Abigail emerging from behind her screen of palmettos to walk past the pool towards him.

The first thing he noticed were her bare feet and ankles. They looked so pale against the dead leaves and the brown sand as she walked and something odd tightened in his chest at the sight of them. The next thing he noticed was the small knife he'd handed her was safely tucked into, Christ, were those her stockings around her waist?

Well, she was resourceful, he'd give her that.

He lowered the rapier.

"All right?" he asked.

She nodded, her hands clutching at her skirts, before smoothing them down.

He looked up at the sky and reckoned they were well into the afternoon and Christ knew he was hungry, so she had to be as well.

Jerking his head towards the beach, he said, "Need to get some shelter set up. Then we'll find something to eat."

"Oh, that would be lovely," she said brightening as she walked towards him. "What can I do to help?"

"Dunno," he said slipping the rapier through his belt, opposite his sword. "Depends on what we can find."

He moved to head to the beach, but paused to glance once more at those pale, little feet. "Can you get about like that?"

She peered down at her feet and then back up at him, nodding. "Oh, yes. Much better than with my stockings."

"Just look out for insects," he said as he turned back towards the beach.

"I'm just grateful there are no nettles," she said.

He laughed out loud. "Christ, nettles. Haven't seen those in years."

"There was a horrible patch of them next to a fence at school," she said and he could hear the smile in her voice without even looking at her. "I was forever brushing up against them on our daily walks."

"I remember there was a way you could grab them just right," he said starting to smile himself. "They wouldn't sting if you did it right. My brother, Jack, dared me once to do it."

"Did you do it?" she asked.

"Of course."

"And did it work?"

"Not even close," he said. "Hand stung like a right bastard for two whole days."

"And was there no dock leaf to ease the stinging?" she asked between giggles.

"Not a bloody stalk of it in sight," he said.

She laughed and Billy was immediately back in the corner of the park he and his siblings had roamed in. Her laugh reminded him of English bluebells; brilliant, delicate petals of bright blue hidden in the earthy gloom of a forest.

So engrossed was he in the sudden remembrance, he missed what she asked next. "What?"

"I merely enquired about your brother," she repeated. "You had one?"

Fuck.

Had he…?

He had.

He hadn't thought about his family in any kind of detail for years.

And he wasn't about to start now.

"Yeah," he said, the smile gone from his face and his voice low and, he hoped, forbidding. "Once."

He must have made his point for she asked no further questions the rest of the way to the beach; she simply followed him, stepping in the grooves his boots made in the sand with those tiny feet.

The silence followed them all the way to the shoreline where he looked at the line of debris they'd collected. When he was certain of his own restraint, he glanced at her only to see her looking at him calmly, her deep brown eyes appeared knowing and filled with something he thought he recognized as compassion.

"I'm sorry," she said. "For bringing up bad memories you'd rather forget."

"They aren't bad," he said with a sigh. "They're…a lifetime ago and have no bearing on who and what I am today."

He hoped that would satisfy her and end the conversation.

It did, but only to a point as she replied, "I'm afraid I disagree with you, but I would mention it again, if that's what you wish."

"It is," he said meeting her eyes.

She nodded. "Very well. What would you have me do?"

He eyed her slight form but determined gaze and thought. Then he said, "See that bucket that you, ah, found earlier?"

Her cheeks flushed as she no doubt remembered the impressive heave she'd given said bucket and he once again wondered what offense the thing had done her.

"Yes," she said. "I see it."

"Take that to the pool and fill it with water, then bring it back here," he said.

"That's all?" she asked frowning.

"For now," he said turning his back on her and heading to gather the sturdier pieces of wood he'd found earlier, in addition to the tarp the sailor had been wrapped up in. He could feel her staring after him and he smirked to himself. If she thought gathering a bucket of water was a simple matter for someone not used to doing such a task, she was in for a surprise.

But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her march over to the bucket, inspect it, and then head into the trees.

He allowed himself a full smile as he watched her go, but then shook his head and got to work.

While he constructed a tent, it occurred to him that he really had no idea as to how long they'd be stranded together. He had to set some guidelines for himself. And for her.

No more conversations about pasts or family was the first one he thought of. He had no desire to think about what he'd done and where he came from. He could admit to himself that he was curious about just what Miss Abigail Ashe's reasons were for embarking on such a voyage as she had, but he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up.

He'd have to keep his distance. Which considering the size of the island was going to be challenging, but he'd do it.

He had to.

She was a lady and he was a godforsaken pirate and while they might have some shared history that was the extent of their similarities. He wouldn't add to the damage that he and his crew had already done to her reputation.

 _Besides_ , he thought bitterly as he thrust a tall, thin plank of wood into a patch of sand close to the edge of the trees and out of the wind. _You've already broken your promise not to lay a hand on her by fucking throwing yourself on top of her. So no ideas about Abigail Ashe's pretty little ankles, my lad_.

He stuck another plank in the ground and taking another bit of wood, he hammered it down until it felt secured. He repeated the motion with another plank, making sure all three were in line with each other.

Grabbing the tarp, he draped it over the planks, but his eye was caught by Abigail emerging from the trees, bucket in both hands.

The front of her skirts were wet and she'd clearly had trouble walking with the full pail. Water was always heavier than you expected it to be. He considered making a jest, but when her eyes met his, they practically dared him to say anything, so he merely bit his tongue and nodded to her.

With her chin lifted, she carried the water over to him with only the smallest splashes of water spilling over the edge. She set it down with obvious effort and rubbed her hands on her skirt, but made no complaint, just looked him in the eyes.

Well, damn if his estimation of the girl wasn't rising by the moment.

Along with other parts of him, but he willed that down quickly.

 _Woman, not girl,_ his mind said. _That there is a woman._

 _No_ , another part of him said. _She's a lady. And don't you fucking forget that_.

However, the longer she stood in front of him, with strands of her hair wisping about her face in the sea breeze, and her damned bare feet covered in sand, he found it incredibly difficult to deny just how lovely she was.

"What would you like me to do now?" she asked, brushing her hair from her face with the back of her hand.

 _Place your hands on my face and press yourself close to me_ , he thought wildly. He shook his head and rubbed his jaw, looking away from her.

"Ah, gather up all the smaller bits of wood and some driftwood," he said. "They may be too wet for a fire, but we can try them."

She nodded and headed off to the shoreline.

He finished draping the tarp over the planks and then pulled one side out. Taking out his cutlass, he sharpened the points of some smaller sticks into stakes, then jabbed them through the tarp, pinning the tarp to the ground. He did the same to the other side.

Standing and looking the tent over, he tested the stability of the middle make-shift poles. There was some give, but as long as it didn't gale overnight, it would hold.

Not that he'd be sleeping in it.

He'd be outside on the ground, while _she_ was safely inside.

He spared a moment to wonder at how after all these years, he still knew what propriety actually was.

A clatter of wood behind him had him turning and he saw her staring at the tent with a bright smile, driftwood in a pile by her feet.

"That's remarkable," she said looking it over.

"It's just a tent," he said.

"It's hardly that," she said coming closer. "It's skill and knowledge. I think I'm quite lucky to be stranded here with you."

Jesus Christ, she needed to not say things like that, he thought as he turned away from her. "Not sure I'd call it luck."

"What would you call it?" she asked, lightly touching the edge of the tarp and sliding her finger down it.

"Penance?" he suggested.

She laughed and shook her head. "No. Penance is sitting in a room with five grey-haired ladies while they criticize your embroidery skills. This is far more enjoyable."

"I'll have to take your word for it," he said smiling a little despite himself. "My embroidery skills are pretty rubbish."

"So are mine," she said coming to stand beside him. "Thank you. For the tent."

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "There's still the matter of dinner to catch."

"How are you going to go about it?" she asked her brow furrowing.

He pulled the rapier from his belt and looked at the ocean. "The old way."

In the end, it wasn't fishing so much as it was crabbing. Using a good amount of force and patience, Billy managed to capture five sizable crabs by using the rapier as a spear and simply thrusting it through their middles. Abigail had wrinkled that little nose of hers at the crunch of the first casualty, but gamely stayed close and quiet while Billy waded in the shallows.

When he'd caught the fifth one, he decided to call it a day, as they were quick little buggers and he wasn't sure if he could take the weight of her stare much longer. She'd watched him the whole time, her head tilting to one side and then the other as she observed him. She actually clapped when he got the first one and he'd grinned widely, something like happiness flooding him. It unsettled him something fierce. Her gaze felt too appreciative and too kind and he honestly didn't know what to do with it.

He gathered up the crabs, one or two of them still twitching, and headed up to the area by the tent.

"We can cook them on the fire," he said. "May take a while and it'll char them some, but it'll do. Shame we don't have a proper pot. They're better boiled."

She frowned and then brightened. "Oh, but we do have a pot!"

"We do?" he asked glancing at her.

"Well, I think we do," she said before biting her lip and saying, "I'll be right back."

She hurried away and he stood like an idiot watching her skirts swirl around her ankles as they flashed across the beach into the trees.

He debated going after her, but decided he was too tired and she seemed more than capable at the moment. Besides, the second she called, he'd come running. He set about making a sizable fire, one that could be seen from the sea, using his own flint, ever grateful that they'd stayed in his pocket and hadn't washed out to sea. Most of the driftwood was too wet, so he set those pieces aside to dry.

He'd just gotten the flames to a reasonable size when Abigail appeared carrying…was that the Spaniard's bloody helmet and breastplate?

"Will these work, do you think?" she asked breathlessly kneeling beside him and setting the armour on the ground. "By the way, you're quite correct about skeletons being rather delicate."

"You…" He swallowed and tried to make sense of what he saw. "You took these off him?"

"Yes, oh!" Her hands covered her mouth. "Should I not have? Have I disrespected him? Was that very wrong of me? Oh, dear, I didn't think. Oh, I should have thought…"

"No, no," he said chuckling as he picked up the breastplate. "It's fine. He's not exactly fit to use them at the moment." He looked the breastplate over and tested it's durability by trying to bend it. "The fire'll probably blacken the metal and bend it some, but hopefully it'll hold well enough."

He looked at her hopeful and expression and with a half-smile, he pulled her hands from her mouth. "It was a good idea. We can try it out."

She breathed a sigh of relief and clasped his hand with hers. "Good. I'm glad."

Her touch was light and cool on his weathered fingers and he found that his chest ached at her touch. He dropped her hand and shoved the breastplate at her. "Fill it with some water and we'll put the crabs in. I'll make something for it to sit on over the fire."

He got to his feet and he could tell that he'd surprised her, but fuck, she'd surprised him. What kind of a lady thinks that a suit of armour makes for decent cooking?

 _A clever one, lad_ , Mr Gates said in his head. _And they're the ones to look out for_.

The next hour was spent in silence as they sat with some distance between them, staring at the fire and the oddly shaped pot suspended just above the flames.

The metal scorched as Billy had predicted but held up to the heat and before long, he was pulling hot boiled crab out and dropping them on some large leaves that he'd plucked from a nearby tree.

Abigail stared at her crab and then over at his. Knowing she was watching, he took his cutlass and poked the tip into a small crack at the seam of the crab's shell and then twisted his cutlass slightly. The shell popped open and he tipped the meat into his mouth. It burned his tongue but he was well past caring, he was so hungry.

He licked at the shell, making sure to get all of the meat he could and mid-lick, he glanced at Abigail to see her staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

He licked his own lips and asked, "Do you need me to open that for you?"

She looked down at the crab in front of her and narrowed her eyes.

Then, as she pulled the knife he'd given her earlier from her sash, she said, "I have no doubt that there are going to be a great many things that you will need to do for me while we're here. However," she picked up her crab and inspected it, then slid the knife into the shell, "I refuse to have 'cutting up my dinner' be one of them."

She twisted the knife and while the shell didn't pop off quite as cleanly as his had, enough was removed for her to pick out thick chunks of crabmeat. She put some in her mouth and closed her eyes as she chewed.

"All right?" he asked keeping an eye on her as he cracked open the claw of his crab and sucked the meat out.

"Oh, yes," she said around her mouthful. "That's heavenly."

"They always say that hunger is the best spice of them all," he said pulling the thin crab legs off and sucking out the meat before tossing them to the side.

She carried on slowly pulling out pieces of meat from the shell while he stared on his second crab. He noticed her dart her eyes to him before she followed his example and resorted to licking the shell clean. He hid a smile and went about eating.

"Do you just," she asked eyeing the crab legs, "pull them off?"

"Yep," he said. "Quickly and then suck out what's inside."

She struggled to get a good grasp on a leg, but soon figured it out and giggled when she finally tasted the legs.

"It's so salty," she said wiping her mouth.

"That's the sea for you," he said. "Have the other one."

"Are you sure you don't want it?" she asked.

"Three is my limit," he said, tossing the remaining crab onto her leaf. "Eat up, Abigail."

She smiled at him and did as he said.

The sun was just reaching the horizon when she finished and Billy stoked the fire. He heard her sigh as she looked out at the sea and even he had to admit that the sight was a spectacular one that he never tired of seeing. The sun reflecting off all that ocean, the sky turning brilliant shades of pink and orange.

He sat staring out at the setting sun, before reaching for the whetstone in his pocket and setting to sharpening the rapier. The task calmed him as did the sound of the steel rasping against the stone.

They sat in silence that felt almost comfortable and he could tell she was getting sleepier by the minute; her head kept drooping lower and lower. He was about to suggest that she go into the tent and sleep when she spoke.

"I was sorry to hear of Captain Vane's death."

Well.

He certainly hadn't expected that and he paused mid-stroke of the rapier.

"Were you?" he asked, keeping his voice measured.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"He held you captive," he said continuing to sharpen the blade.

"He also never lied to me," she said simply, pulling her knees up close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before resting her chin atop one knee. "There's an honour in that which I've discovered is quite rare. Lately, I've come to value the truth above the majority of any of the other virtues."

Billy had no desire to counter such a statement, so he merely hmm'd.

"Captain Vane also rid the world of Ned Lowe," she said and he heard a wealth of anger in her voice. "Any man who did so deserves a great deal of gratitude."

"Never met the fellow," Billy said. "But by all accounts, I don't think the world will miss him."

"He was a madman," she said and the anger slid into something like fear and his grip tightened on the rapier. "He would come into my cell and sit close to me and just…stare. Nothing more. He wouldn't touch me, he wouldn't say anything, apart from the one time I spoke and he struck me for it." Billy gritted his teeth and glanced at her, but she was blind to the world around her as she remembered. "I hated it. Feeling him look at me. It felt…cold."

She blinked and shook her head before lifting her head and looking at Billy. Her lips lifted briefly in some semblance of a smile.

"I was grateful to be taken from his ship," she said. "Even if it was by another pirate. Captain Vane struck me as ruthless, but not mad."

"No," Billy said, remembering that day in the square. "Vane wasn't mad. And you're right. He told the truth. Even when it was at great cost to him."

"I didn't think you liked him," she said frowning.

"Don't have to like a man to think something of him," he said going back to his regular strokes of the steel.

"Very true," she said nodding her head before yawning. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

He chuckled. "Get some sleep. Been a long day."

"Has it only been a day?" she said looking down at her hands. "My goodness." She lifted her head and smiled slightly. "I think I will retire, thank you."

She got to her feet and dusted off her skirts, then moved towards the tent. She paused and he knew precisely what she was thinking, so he said, "I'll just be out here. Keeping watch."

"Surely you need rest, too," she said.

"I'll get some," he said, eyeing the rapier and testing it's sharpness with his thumb. He set it aside and picked up his cutlass to sharpen next. He realised she still stood looking at him, so he met her eyes and gave her a small smile. "It'll be all right. Sleep, Miss Ashe."

She held his eyes long enough for him to feel his face heat up, but then she nodded and looked away. "Good night, Mr Bones."

He stared after her and only said, "Good night," once she was inside the tent.

If he looked hard enough, he could see the bottoms of her feet, still so pale despite walking on the ground all day.

Looking away, and setting his cutlass to the whetstone, Billy drew the blade across over and over and did his level best to not think about the woman asleep behind him.


	4. On the Island III

A/N: Huge apologies for the delay! I just moved house, I still have no internet at home, and work decided to become stupidly busy. Thank you to everyone leaving comments, kudos and follows! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

* * *

Abigail woke in much the same manner as she had the previous day: aching all over and on the ground. She slowly sat up and looked around. Well, at least her feet were dry this time.

The tent had held well and she thought she remembered the wind picking up during the night. She wiped at her face and cringed at the fine layer of sand on her cheeks. Glancing to the side, she realised the other half of the ground under the tent was undisturbed,

She frowned. Had Billy slept out in the open all night?

Emerging from the tent, she looked around. The fire still burned and the sun was only just appearing about the horizon, so it was still quite early. Licking her dry lips, she went to the bucket of water and cupped some in her hand to drink. She drank enough to soothe her throat and splashed some on her face, waking her fully. Looking around the beach, she began to hear a _thunk-whack_. Then another. _Thunk-whack._

She got to her feet and walked around the tent to the opposite side, stopping at the tree line.

 _Oh_ , she thought absently. _Good morning?_

Billy stood with his feet shoulder-width apart as he swung his cutlass into the trunk of a narrow palm tree. He had already created a notch where his cutlass sunk into repeatedly as he swung. The tree began to bow one way. With apparent ease, he placed his hand flat on the trunk and pushed.

Abigail held her breath and couldn't determine which wonder to fix her gaze upon: the falling tree or the play of Billy's arm muscles beneath his skin.

She aimed for both.

She failed miserably, but she did try to pay some attention to the tree as it fell to the ground.

The crash and thump it made, even though she expected it, made her jump. Seeing her in the corner of his eye, Billy turned to her and she smiled.

"Good morning," she called approaching him.

"Morning," he said nodding before walking along the length of the fallen tree. He plucked a coconut off the ground and set it on the trunk. With an easy swing of his cutlass, he split the coconut in half. Pausing only briefly, he offered one half to Abigail.

She blinked and came closer, taking the coconut from him and looking down at it.

"Just eat the white bits and drink the juice," he said before tipping the remaining half into his mouth and then digging out the white flaky flesh.

Abigail did the same and the earthy sweetness surprised her and she hummed happily as she ate.

Billy sank the blade of his cutlass into the trunk and sat down. Abigail mimicked him and sat on the opposite side of the blade. He finished his breakfast before she did and used his cutlass to carve out the remaining bits of fruit, hollowing the outside into a bowl.

"Oh," she said watching him. "That's a good idea."

"Makes drinking a bit easier," he said. He nodded at her coconut. "I can-"

"Oh, no," she said smiling and pulling out her small knife. "I'd like to try."

"Just don't stab yourself or lose a finger," he said, his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners.

"I'll make a special point of it, thank you," she said eyeing her knife and the coconut before attempting to carve as he had done.

Billy got to his feet and collected the rest of the fallen coconuts. Realizing that he was about to start chopping up the tree, Abigail moved to sit on the ground to finish carving. While she did her best to focus on the coconut in her hand, her gaze kept returning to Billy as he worked.

"Is this for firewood?" she asked.

He nodded. "The fire needs to be big enough to see from the sea. That means lots of wood."

"I see," she said eyeing her slightly misshapen attempt at a bowl, but figured it would hold water well enough.

Billy cut the palm fronds off the top and moved to throw them to the side.

"Oh, wait!" she said getting to her feet. He paused and looked at her, fronds still in hand. "I'd like to try something with those, actually. I think I'd like to try to weave them together? Possibly create a mat of some sort to sleep on?"

He glanced at the fronds and but silently handed them to her, shrugging, "Suit yourself."

"Did you sleep by the fire last night?" she asked taking the fronds.

"Yeah," he said before chopping off some of the smaller limbs.

"You weren't cold?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, don't need much sleep these days anyway. Hard to sleep for more than…" He glanced at her and then shook his head again. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine outside." He chopped at the top of the tree with a grim expression. "Slept in far worse places."

She watched him for a moment longer and then asked, "You'd much rather be out there, wouldn't you? With your crew?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes fixed on the tree. He seemed to come back to himself and winced as he glanced at her. "It's nothing personal."

"I'm not offended," she said smiling a bit. "They're your crew and well, I imagine you've…work to do?"

"Yeah," he said wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm. "Things are…precarious in Nassau right now."

"You mean dangerous?" she asked.

"Well, if by dangerous, you mean that we're in the eye of a storm that threatens all of Nassau and these islands while we wait to see if Spain rains holy hell on anyone in her way?" he said. "Yeah, things are dangerous."

"Eye of a storm?" she repeated. "I thought I'd read that some sort of agreement had been reached?"

He chuckled and kicked a bit of the tree. "Agreement. The current term is 'ceasefire' and all who reside in the region, pirate, maroon, or English soldier is joined against a common enemy."

"Spain," Abigail said. "I see. You don't think this ceasefire will last?"

"Either Spain blows us all out of the water or England does," Billy said. "It'll be one or the other. Fact is, we're too different now. We've tasted true independence and my brothers and I have suffered for too long under a fickle England and we're not going to stand for it much longer." He smirked. "And England knows it."

He sunk his cutlass so heavily into the tree, Abigail felt the vibration of it under her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked looking at her, confused.

"I'm sorry that you're stuck here," she said. "When you'd much rather be out there. I'd feel the same if I were in your position."

He seemed to not know what to say and so Abigail took the opportunity to say, "And I promise not to be too much trouble. I won't be idle when there are things to be seen to. In fact, what can I do?"

"You don't need to do anything," he said still looking uneasy.

"Of course, I do," she said. "I know you may not want me to, or don't believe that I'm capable, but I assure you, I am."

"It's not that," he said crinkling his eyes and looking away from her.

"Then what is it?" she asked, certain that there was something bothering him. Something about _her_ that bothered him.

But he just shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing." He looked at her. "We could use more water."

"Of course," she said lifting her chin. "I'll return shortly."

She gathered her carved coconut and the palm fronds, leaving him to stare after her. She was determined to prove her usefulness to him, one way or another. After dropping the palm fronds by the tent, she grabbed the bucket and walked into the trees. The bucket banged softly against her legs and she stared up at the sunlight filtering through the branches above. Halfway between musing and keeping an eye out for spiders. She skirted around the remains of the Spanish skeleton and went directly for the pool. Remembering her mishap the day before of trying to just dunk the bucket into the pool and then lift it, resulting in a soaked front, she set the bucket on the lip of the pool and using her newly carved coconut, she filled the bucket scoop by scoop. Before she left, she eyed the higher rocks and wondered if there was more water above that she couldn't see.

Deciding that she'd return later and see if she could climb up she picked up the bucket and winced as they weight and the thinness of the handle cut into her soft palms. She frowned at both the handle and her hands unused to labour.

"Fine," she muttered putting the bucket down. "It was rather inevitable."

She glanced around and then used her knife to cut a strip from the bottom of her petticoat. She ripped it right the way around. She dipped it in the pool to clean it slightly, then sliced it into smaller section, deciding that sooner or later one of them would need a bandage. She wound a strip around her palm and lifted the bucket again. It still stung, but at least it didn't dig in quite so much.

She walked back to their camp. As she emerged onto the beach, she saw Billy standing by the tent, obviously looking for her. However, upon seeing her he turned away and started to chop up what remained of the tree.

Abigail's smile slipped from her face and her cheeks burned, more out of confusion that anything else. Had she done something? She walked slowly to the fire, making sure she didn't spill a drop of water.

When she reached him as she set the bucket down, he asked, "What happened?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "Nothing at all. Why do you ask?"

He nodded to her bound hand. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly unbinding the cloth. "The handle was… I'm not used to this kind of activity." He frowned and she added, "But they'll get stronger. I'll get stronger, I promise."

He seemed to dislike her answer as he looked away with a sigh. With a set to his jaw, he sank his cutlass into a log with a force that made her jump. He darted a look at her and she looked away, biting her lip, deeply unsure as to what had happened between eating a coconut together in relative peace and now where he could barely look at her. He seemed...angry? But whether it was directed at her or something else, she really couldn't say.

 _It has been some time since you've seen him,_ she thought turning to look at the sea. _And he's clearly missing his crewmates and you, my girl, are a very sad substitute for them._

For lack of anything better to do and unwilling to remain in his presence when he so clearly wished her anywhere else and deep in what Abigail would call an 'unapproachable' mood, she headed to the shoreline.

Her thoughts tumbled over each other, much like the waves before her, but she did her best to remain calm. She'd spent most of her life waiting and watching, what was a little bit more.

'Limbo,' one teacher had called it. 'That place between Heaven and Hell where a soul dwells until Judgement.'

The teacher had then gone on to mostly deride the Catholic doctrine, but the concept had remained with Abigail.

 _A life of unending Limbo_ , she thought. _Waiting to go to school, waiting to leave school, waiting to travel to the Americas, waiting in a cell, then another, and then left all alone to wait even more for someone, anyone to take me off someone else's hands. I thought this would end when I boarded the Hadley. I planned and I planned and took absolute action_. She stared at the endless sea and closed her eyes when the sunlight reflected harshly. _But here I am once again. Waiting. But for what this time?_

The warm water slipped over her bare feet and she knelt down to wash off her hands and her sandy calves. She stood and shaded her eyes as she stared out at the sea, watching the waves break on the shoals; the sound of Billy chopping away resounded behind her. The chopping had paused when she knelt down, but resumed when she stood and she knew that she was watching her.

She closed her eyes and let her frustration and loneliness swamp her for a moment; then she opened her eyes and decided to do something useful. For a moment, she was at a loss as to what that something useful could be, but she noticed some driftwood coming in and supposed that collecting anything that had washed up overnight would be as useful as anything.

She walked a small ways and found a small bit of sail, a flask of something, as well as some netting.

She moved slowly down the beach until she realised that she could no longer hear Billy's chopping. Turning around she discovered that she was some ways from the camp and that he was near the shoreline, watching her. She raised her hand and waved minutely at him.

After a moment, he did the same. With an odd set to his shoulders, he went back to his tree. Her heart thudded oddly in her chest as she watched him stride across the sand, his figure tall and imposing, even at such a distance.

"It really is quite absurd that a simple hand wave can make you this ridiculous," she said out loud. "Honestly, Abigail."

She carried on walking until she reached where the island ended into a set of sharp rocks and crashing waves. Abigail stared at the surf a moment and then headed back, picking up the odd pieces of flotsam and jetsam along the way.

By the time she made it back to the tent and the fire she was thirsty and hungry. She dropped the sail filled with items by the fire.

"All right?" Billy asked as he joined her, handing her an already split coconut.

Happily, she dug out some of the fruit and nodded. "Hmm. Found some more bits and pieces." She poked the sack with her foot. "I'm not sure how useful any of it is, but I had an idea for the netting."

Billy crouched down and sifted through the bits of driftwood and examined the netting before putting it to the side. He plucked the flask up and shook it.

Liquid sloshed inside and he glanced at her.

"I didn't open it," she said. "I have no idea what's in it."

"Probably seawater," he said twisting the cork up and out. He sniffed at it and raised his eyebrows before taking a drink. "Rum."

"Really?" she asked watching him.

He nodded before taking another drink and wincing around it. "It's not very good rum, but it's rum. Not off the _Walrus_ , though. The men wouldn't stand for this shite being on board." He took another drink before glancing at her and offering the flask to her. "Would you, ah, care for some?"

"Oh, no," she said smiling briefly. "I'm not particularly fond of it."

"You drunk it before?" he asked getting to his feet.

She looked down and fussed with the netting. "Ned Low thought it would be best if I remained quiet. So they poured a great deal of rum down me." She wrinkled her nose. "A good bit of it came back up the next morning, but it had the desired effect. I was quiet. After that I found I don't really care for the taste very much."

Her fingers tangled in the netting as she recalled the damp, cold of the cell and the sour taste in her mouth and the smell of her ruined dress. A funny sound brought her out of her memories and she looked over to see Billy pouring the remaining rum out of the flask onto the ground. Her lips parted in surprise and she stared at him.

When the last drop fell from the flask, he put the cork back in the top and handed it to her. "It's still a good flask. Just wash it out and keep it with you."

She took the flask from him in silence and honestly didn't know how to respond. This gesture from him seemed to bear more weight and meaning than the sum of the last two years' worth of expressions of pity. Billy appeared to be as thrown by his actions as she was and shifted on his feet while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Eventually, he just nodded and went back to his tree.

Abigail watched him go and wondered if she'd ever come close to understanding the terribly taciturn man who occupied this island with her.

Putting him from her mind, she sat down by the fire and studied the netting. Then she took two thin branches from the palm tree and cut them to equal heights. She easily tied the netting to the sticks and held it up so that the net stretched between the sticks. Abigail smiled as she got to her feet to head down to the waves.

She had no idea if the tide was coming or going but perhaps when Billy was feeling a bit friendlier (if he ever felt a bit friendlier) she'd ask him. She stopped at the edge and frowned down at her skirts before eyeing the water.

Shrugging, she walked into the calm surf, the sun had dried her clothing the day before, and surely it would do so again.

The water felt refreshing around her ankles and legs and her toes curled in the sand. Her skirts puffed up the further she ventured, but eventually they grew heavy with water and clung to her skin. As she walked, she remembered how heavy fabric became when wet, but she'd already come this far and she wasn't about to stop now.

Once the water reached to just above her knees, she lowered the net into the shallows. She kept it at an angle so that whatever came close would get caught in the net.

Then she waited.

The sun beat down and sweat ran down her temples and neck to collect in her bodice, but she stayed still. She saw all sorts of things in the water that moved in small swells past her legs. Little fish and even a few small crabs scuttled along. One largeish fish in particular seemed to be intrigued by her toes. It darted between her legs and down around her ankles. It swam close to the net and then away.

Abigail held her breath.

The fish darted into the net...and wriggled. It was stuck. She'd done it. She'd actually caught a fish!

Slowly, she started to lift the net from the water, the weight of the fish made her shift her feet in the uneven sand.

The net had just emerged from the water when a voice asked harshly, "What the hell are you doing?"

Abigail yelped and straightened, pulling the net out of the water. The weight of the fish and her sodden skirts threw her off balance and she fell backwards into the water.

* * *

Billy's heart stuttered when he saw her fall backwards into the water and he raced into the waves. By the time he reached her, she was getting to her feet and...laughing? What the hell?

Despite being soaking wet, with strands of her hair plastered to her face and neck, she smiled at him and held something up.

"I caught a fish," she said laughing.

He stared at her in complete disbelief before looking at the thing she held in her hands. Had she...made a net? Because sure enough, there was a fish wriggling inside it. A sizeable one, too. Enough to feed them both for dinner.

Her face fell as she looked at her catch. "Oh, how do we cook it?" she asked. "Do we do it while it's still alive?"

Billy's head ached. All day he'd been dividing his time between chopping down a bloody tree and keeping an eye on Abigail, making sure that she didn't hurt herself and here she was catching their dinner? That was his responsibility. Hell, all of this was his responsibility. She just needed to stay in one place until they were rescued. Surely that wasn't too hard, was it?

But here she was, proud that she'd done something for them. Provided for them. And while he was sure he could be a right bastard, he wasn't going to be a prick about this.

So he forced a smile onto his face and said, "You generally let them die before putting them on a spit."

"Oh," she said grimacing, but she cleared her expression and said, "Show me how."

The rest of the evening was spent with Billy showing Abigail how to sharpen the ends of a stick to shove through the fish, which was then placed above the fire and turned slowly. So as to not feel as though he hadn't done anything, he waded into the surf and found a few more crabs to go along with the fish. Abigail steadily turned the fish on its spit with a concentration that he found somewhat endearing.

Which was bad, he kept telling himself. It did neither of them any good to become anything other than what they were, which was complete and total opposites. She might play at being disreputable, but sooner or later, she'd realise that her place was amongst civilised folks and that sure as hell wasn't him. He had a bloody war to win and as soon as he was off this island, the better.

He knew this.

But the longer he looked at her and saw her little smiles at the things she did for herself (and for him), the harder it was to believe that they were truly that opposite.

They ate Abigail's fish and his crabs in silence and he could see her getting drowsy and her eyes blinked slowly as the sun went down.

"Oh, goodness," she said hiding a yawn with a small, white hand. "I believe I may have to turn in."

"Yeah," he said poking at the fire. "You, ah, had a busy day."

"Hardly," she said smiling at him. "I'm not the one who felled a tree."

"Just a small one," he said shrugging.

"All the same," she said as she got to her feet and dusted off her skirts. She bit her lip and then said, "Well, good night, then."

"Good night," he said glancing at her and then away. He only looked at her fully when her back was to him and he watched her duck into the tent and lie down.

She must have been tired for she stilled nearly as soon as she laid her head on her arms. He stared at her sleeping form and knew that despite what she seemed to think, she couldn't continue as she had that day.

He had to keep her safe and he had to make sure that boundaries were set and fixed between them.

Billy gritted his teeth and stabbed at the fire. He knew what he was going to do was going make him an arse, he knew it. But it was for her own good that he kept his distance. Hell, it was for his own good that he kept his distance. It wasn't as though he wanted to bed her (although he did have a hard time not appreciating how soft her skin looked), he liked listening to her. He liked her voice and her wit and her incredible capacity for practicality.

She made a net, for Christ's sake. Half his own crew wouldn't show that much initiative two days into being stranded.

He liked her too much.

His life wasn't one that could blend with softness and kindness. If he even allowed himself to be something as minor as a friend to her, let alone anything else, his path in this world was only ever going to lead to violence and he would not allow that to touch her.

Therefore, by the time Abigail woke up the next morning, he'd already seen to the water as well as placed an already split coconut by her cup before taking up the bit of sail she'd used the day before to collect things and headed to the shoreline.

When he returned from scavenging, she was awake and standing looking down at the filled water bucket with something that might have been confusion or perhaps irritation; he wasn't sure. He did know that he felt something prickle on the back of his neck and wondered if he was going to regret being so high-handed.

But then he told himself that his men never complained when he took charge. At least they never complained to his face and that was pretty much the same thing.

"Morning," he said walking up to her. She looked up at him and then at the tarp he set down. "Not much to be found today. So I wouldn't bother looking."

She stared at the collection of driftwood and then at him before nodding. "All right."

"And there's plenty of crab, for later," he went on nodding at the breastplate with some crabs already trapped inside. "So you don't have to fish anymore."

"I see," she said her eyes narrowing and he was suddenly reminded of how Anne Bonny sometimes looked before she drew her sword, but he shook it off. "And I've already-"

"Fetched the water," she filled in. "So, I take it there's no need for me to do that either, correct?"

"Yeah," he said his brow furrowing as some of his confidence slipped away.

She nodded slowly and he knew she was on to him. Maybe she didn't guess at his why's, but she knew that he wanted her to stay put and to stop doing things for them.

This realisation transpired all within the blink of an eye as her face went from suspicious to blank to...pleasant?

She smiled at him and said, "Thank you. I believe I'll remain close to the fire today."

"Good idea," he said trying not to melt into a puddle of relief that a part of him warned him to be wary of. "I hope I can get something rigged that's a bit more sturdy than this tent. One sharp breeze and this tarp will be done for."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," she said still sounding pleasant and easy and Billy's wariness increased, but she wasn't actually _doing_ anything, so he ignored it and went to work.

Apart from ducking into the trees to relieve herself or wash her hands in the surf, Abigail remained by the fire, much to Billy's relief. She still wasn't idle, and really he hadn't expected her to do nothing, just to stop putting herself in harm's way. While on the warship, she'd always been doing something, sewing, writing, reading...watching, so Billy knew it was useless to think she'd just sit still. She wove a decent mat of palm fronds to sleep on. One for herself and one for him. She didn't say anything about it, just laid it by the fire.

He nodded his thanks to her and she solemnly nodded back. But as long as she just stayed put, they'd be fine. _She'd_ be fine.

He really should have known better. None of the women he knew had ever been mild-mannered, so he wasn't sure why he assumed that the one woman he suspected was mild-mannered turned out to be anything but, because when he woke up the next morning, she wasn't in the tent.

He'd slept a bit later than he'd meant to and the sun was just above the horizon when he sat up, scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the tent only to see that Abigail wasn't there.

"Fuck," he hissed as he rose to his feet, cutlass in hand. He scanned the shoreline, certain that he'd see her limp, drowned body floating in the shallows, but he saw nothing but crashing surf. His eye was eventually caught by the fact that the bucket was missing.

She was fetching water? He glared at the depression in the sand where the bucket usually sat and his hand tightened on his cutlass. He's halfway to having his heart explode, imagining all sorts of horrors and she's fucking fetching water?

Billy was halfway into the trees by the time he came back to himself and when he arrived at the pool, she was standing on the edge of the rocks peering down at the very top.

"Abigail!" he called as he leapt over a fallen log as he headed straight for her.

She jumped and turned to glare at him. "Would you stop doing that? There's really no need to shout, you know? I'm fairly certain I'm the only other person around." She turned back to the rocks. "Did you know that there's a rather deep depression up here? The water goes down for a bit."

"There's every need to shout," he, well, shouted. "I wake up and you're no where to be seen. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Her head whipped around to look at him as the colour rose in her cheeks.

"I was thinking that we needed water and that you looked peaceful for perhaps the first time since I met you and figured you'd appreciate some extra sleep," she said peering down at him. "That is what the," she swallowed and lifted her chin, " _fuck_ , I was thinking."

The wind fell out of his sails slightly upon hearing her curse, but he walked over to her and curved an arm around her waist and plucked her off the rocks.

"Hey!" she shouted, her hand clutching at his arm. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you out of harm's way," he said through clenched teeth as he set her on the ground and took a step back.

"How?" she said, her eyes fierce and her hands on her hips. "By making me sit in one place all day, every day? What's next? A cell of my very own? From personal experience, I can assure you that they work very well."

He froze. "I wouldn't… That's not… I'm not Ned fucking Low, Abigail!"

"I know that!" she said stamping her foot. "Which is why I don't understand why you're acting so oddly."

"I'm not acting oddly," he lied as he looked away.

"Yes, you are," she said. "You won't talk to me."

"I talk to you," he said still not able to look at her.

"Barely," she said, "and honestly, this situation is insupportable. You cannot pretend I'm not here."

He stared at her and wondered if he was going mad or if it was just the effect this woman seemed to have on him. "I'm not pretending you aren't here."

"You speak to me only when you have to," she said glaring at him. "And then with as few words as possible. Every time you smile at me, you then turn away as though I disgust you. If you happen to laugh, you look as though you're going to run someone through with your sword and I'm not sure if that someone will be me or yourself. In short, you cannot seem to stand the sight of me and I'm very sorry for that, but we are stuck together and we must come to some sort of civilized companionship."

Billy stared at her and for the first time in a very long time, his knees actually threatened to give out from under him. "Are you mad?" he asked shaking his head. "We _have_ been having a civilized companionship. What else do you want from me?"

"I would like you to stop treating me as though I'm some stranger or some bit of china that you cannot even breathe upon," she said. "I would like you to treat me as a, a, a, crewmate or if that's not possible, as a friend. Something other than this cold treatment."

"Do you not understand?" he said. "I can't."

"Why ever not?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Because you are a god damned lady, Abigail Ashe," he said, his own voice rising. "You are a lady and when you go back to where you came from, it would be best if you were as undamaged as possible."

She stared at him with parted lips and an expression he couldn't quite read, but he thought it might be anger.

"'Undamaged'?" she whispered. "'Go back to where I came from'?" She shook her head. "You're too late, Billy Bones. I'm already damaged."

"No," he said stepping forward, his voice firm and deep. "You're not. I won't allow it."

"Not by you," she said almost laughing even as her eyes welled up. "I was damaged long before I even met you. I was damaged the moment Ned Lowe and his men boarded that ship. And as for going back? There is no going back. Not for me." She drew in a shaking breath. "There never was."

Something hard and awful stirred in Billy's stomach and his hand tightened around the hilt of his cutlass.

"What?" he asked his voice going low. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am no longer wanted in civilized society," she said blinking so that the tears didn't fall from her eyes. "Not only was I lacking the moral fibre that would have prevented me from being abducted in the first place; I then had the temerity to be abducted by a second pirate and then travel, without objection, with a third."

Billy stared at her, trying to parse out what she'd said. When he finally figured it out, he shook his head. "That's bollocks."

"Of course it's bollocks," she said laughing and throwing her head back and as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, Billy wanted to punch someone. "But that's how people think. And not only did I travel with pirates, but those same pirates murdered my father and burned Charles Towne to the ground before they went on a spree across the coast." She swiped at her eyes and met his gaze. "And I defended them."

That something hard and awful in Billy's stomach dug its claws into him and started to pull; he slumped a little and lowered his shoulders.

She sighed and sat down on a fallen log. "It was you, then? You gave Charles Vane my journal?"

"Yes," he said, not even bothering to lie.

"And you'd do it again, wouldn't you?" she asked looking up at him with clear eyes.

He answered her without hesitation, "Yes."

"So would I," she said simply as she tried to smile. She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "You don't need to protect my reputation, Billy. It's been in tatters for quite some time now."

He echoed her sigh and sat down on the sandy ground, laying his sword by his side. He met her gaze and just said, "Tell me."

Shaking her head, she said, "It was rather inevitable, really. I knew enough of society to know that people have very long memories for fantastic stories, whether or not they have the entire truth at their disposal. At the end of the day, I was abducted and spent a great deal of time with pirates. Even though my virtue is still intact, there will always be doubt about it."

Billy'd never had much time for society and now he had even less.

"According to society, I defended the men who kidnapped me," she continued. "I defended the men who murdered people and terrorised the seas. And my father—" Her voice caught a little, but she carried on, "my father was left for dead by these men that I defended. Even if I stood in the middle of the street and begged for forgiveness, it wouldn't be granted. What I did was indefensible and I was informed by friends of my father's that my only solution was to find someone who was willing to take me on and provide some much needed respectability." She made a face. "The hypocrisy in that statement makes me cringe even today."

"How so?" he asked.

"Society's idea of respectability meant that I should pray every night that some dissolute second son took pity on me and offered marriage," she said, her voice hardening. "That I should fall all over myself because Nigel bloody Overton liked the look of me. Never mind that he's racked up gambling debts that stretch from the Americas to London. That's perfectly acceptable, after all." She shook her head. "No. I'd already shared my opinions and been punished for it. I'm not about to stop now."

"Is that where the expedition comes in?" he asked.

She nodded. "Academics care a great deal for their own reputations, but not necessarily that of the person funding them. It was quite by accident that I found myself in their company. I was on my own one afternoon and wandered past the college they're constructing in Williamsburg. I went in and took a seat to listen to a gentleman lecture about the tropics." She shrugged. "Then I bided my time until I came of age and my inheritance came to me. It seems that my father expected me to marry long before that would happen, therefore the will never stated otherwise." She looked down at her hands. "But my father was quite wrong about many things, as it turns out."

He watched her and finally heaved a breath as he shook his head. "Do you know that I've faced down hurricanes, starvation, Flint _and_ Vane at their murderous best, but none of them were half so frightening as you."

Her eyes widened. "I certainly didn't mean to be frightening. How-?"

"Because you're right," he said chuckling. "Because you've had to deal with shit that was never yours and you're angry and lonely and so fucking right about all of it." He squinted at her. "And there's really no point in avoiding you, is there?"

"It's a rather small island," she said, still looking cautious. "But, if you've been avoiding me because, well…" She dropped her eyes. "If it's _me_ you find questionable…"

"'Questionable'?" he repeated confused.

"Yes, I mean, if you don't like me," she said, eyes still focussed on the ground.

"Don't like you?" he repeated, wondering just how she'd come to that conclusion. "Christ, no. I like you, Abigail." Her head rose and he had to smile at her wide eyes and look of surprise. "You take orders with a smile on your face and a spring in your step. You've brains and determination and you've put up with me being a right cock and yeah…" It was Billy's turn to look down. "You're a… I like you. It's not that."

"Oh," she said in a voice so small but hopeful, he had to rub at an ache that panged in his chest at the sound of it. "I like you, too."

He snorted and shook his head. "You shouldn't."

"I don't think –" she started.

"No, Abigail," he said raising his head to look her in the eyes. "You really shouldn't. I gave Vane your journal. And I only spared a moment's thought as to what it would mean to you. I've done… Christ, the things I've done. The things I'm doing and will do." He shook his head. "I kept my distance the last day because I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have done and most likely will do again."

Instead of looking alarmed, she looked positively…calm. Billy furrowed his brow as they stared at one another. She finally broke the silence.

"Are you planning to hurt me, Mr Bones?" she asked.

"What? No, of course not," he said grimacing.

"And you do agree that we are stuck together on this island for the foreseeable future?" she continued.

"Unless you're hiding a ship somewhere," he said considering her. "Yeah, we are."

"Then I suggest we put the past and the future out of our minds as best we can," she said getting to her feet, which were still so wonderfully bare. "I set out on my voyage with every intention of doing just that and I see no reason to not carry on as I was." She stepped towards him and held out her hand. "I propose a truce and that we start over. What say you?"

He stared at her outstretched hand and slowly got to his feet, his eyes locked with hers as he rose. Her head tilted back as she maintained eye contact.

"I say," he said taking her hand and marvelling at the tininess of it. "That had you been in charge of Nassau from the beginning, we wouldn't be on the brink of war."

"That's a lovely compliment, but hardly an answer," she said, her mouth curving upwards.

"Then here's my answer," he said squeezing her hand. "My name is Billy Bones and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ashe."

"As am I," she said smiling fully.

"I'd also like to make amends for being an arse," he said. "What can I do?"

Her eyes brightened. "Show me how to build a fire."

"You want to learn how to build a fire?" he asked.

"It seems extremely useful," she said bouncing slightly on her toes.

He laughed. "Yeah, all right then. I'll show you. Just…" He tightened his grip on her hand when she went to pull away. She peered up at him as he hesitated, then said, "Don't just…disappear like that, all right? I turned around and you were gone and it nearly stopped my heart. So, don't do that again."

"I won't," she said smiling up at him. "As long as you stay moderately reasonable, I won't defy you. Too much."

He grinned down at her.

The rest of the day was spent with Abigail doing her level best to learn how to properly strike flint together to get a spark while Billy carried on fashioning a better lean-to. He still insisted on being the one who caught dinner, but he felt certain that she'd only let him get away with that for only so long.

They ate by the fire in a comfortable silence that Billy hadn't experienced in some time and he had to remind himself that despite their truce, he was still keeping a close eye on her, as well as a healthy distance.

Naturally, that all changed three days later when they found the gold.


	5. On the Island IV

A/N: Please don't hate me! The next chapter is halfway done! Thank you for all of your comments, kudos and follows! They make my day, you don't even know.

* * *

Abigail eyed the small fish that came over to nibble at her toes.

"Go in," she muttered to it. "That's a good fish."

It darted into and out of the net and Abigail held her breath...it went in. She grinned and lifted the net, stumbling slightly as she held it aloft above the waves.

"You're getting far too good at that," Billy called from the shore where he shaved down a pole with his cutlass. "If the expedition lark doesn't pay off, you could always become a fisherman." He paused. "Fisherwoman?"

Abigail laughed and trudged back to shore. "As long as it's not a fishwife, I don't think I have the voice for that. I'm terrible at raising my voice."

"Ah, well, I've found that being quiet tends to get people to fall in line better than a sharp word," he said smiling a bit grimly.

She nodded. "I believe I know what you mean. In any case, that's three caught for dinner!"

"Nice catch," he said eyeing the fish. "Think that's a bream. Good eating later."

"Bream," she repeated dropping the fish into a makeshift bucket made of some bits of driftwood that she'd carved a depression into. She looked over at Billy as he tossed the pole aside and picked up another branch to smooth. "Can I help?"

"Nah," he said wiping his forehead. "This should be done today."

"What will it look like?" she asked coming over to stand beside him.

He glanced at her and then took the pole in his hand and drew in the sand. "The sail we're currently using isn't strong enough to withstand another squall. So, I'm using that larger bit of wood and I'll prop it up with these poles and shore up the sides with wider bits of wood."

Abigail looked at the drawing of what looked like half of the roof of a house. "The only opening will be at the front?"

"You can drape the sail over the front. For, ah, privacy," he said shrugging. "If you want."

"Brilliant," she breathed.

"Basic," he countered.

"All the same," she said rolling her eyes. "Are you sure I can't help?"

"Positive," he said going back to his work.

She stared after him in exasperation, but shook her head and set about making some dinner for them. She'd gathered some berries earlier that he'd said were safe to eat and she set them to the side. Then she turned her attention to the fish spearing them and setting them over the spit atop the fire.

The last two days had been considerably better than the previous two. Abigail's little outburst had broken the ice somewhat and they were becoming more amenable to one another. Billy had even cracked a smile or two that seemed truly genuine and weren't tinged with the ever-present scepticism that seemed to loom over his head. He'd been more accepting of her help, especially in regards to fishing. However, he seemed determined to be the only person to construct the shelter.

Considering her non-existent carpentry skills, Abigail felt that was probably for the best.

Her current challenge was to stop staring at him as though he were a curiosity in a shop.

But it was hard.

She'd never seem anyone approach hard work with the focus and determination that he did. His entire being seemed devoted to finishing the task at hand and when he was deep in concentration, his hands moving expertly over the bits of wood and bindings, she couldn't look away.

The idea of him transferring that focus to her did funny things to her stomach and her skin prickled. As it was currently doing as she turned the fish on the spit absently while her eyes were busy drinking in the sight of him propping one board atop the other. She tore her gaze away as the fish began to sizzle.

A gust of wind took her by surprise and she looked out to sea. Dark clouds had appeared on the horizon within the last half hour or so and she felt another prickle on her skin, and this time it was more of a chill.

"Billy?" she called, not taking her eyes from the clouds.

"I see them," he said hammering the top of a board with the butt of his cutlass. "We have a while before it reaches us."

"How much of a while?" she asked.

"A short one."

"Right," she said under her breath. Checking that the fish were cooked through, she took them off the spit and wrapped them in a waxy leaf before tucking them next to the collection of berries. She checked they had sufficient water and then glanced at Billy. His jaw was clenched as he tried to hold a larger plank of wood up and slot a pole into a notch he'd made that would keep it propped up.

She bit her tongue, stopping herself from offering to help and turned away. She heard him sigh over the wind.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Abigail?"

"Hmmm?" she said as nonchalantly as she could.

"I could use another pair of hands," he said, sounding somewhere between exasperated and sheepish.

"Only if you're positive…" she replied glancing at him over her shoulder.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't be cheeky, Miss Ashe, and just get over here."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she said smiling a little as she walked over to him.

He snorted before he said, "Hold this pole steady while I fix the roof."

They worked on the shelter together, Abigail basically holding whatever Billy told her to, until the rain finally made it to them. The surf surged and crashed on the beach and the sound was thunderous.

Thick, heavy drops splattered on the roof they'd just stabilized and soaked through Abigail's dress to her chemise. She blinked as the rain pelted her face and Billy shook his head from time to time, dislodging the rain that dripped down his forehead.

"That's it," he said as he tied off the last of the bindings. "Get inside."

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief and after grabbing the food and the water bucket, she ducked into the shelter. Billy, meanwhile, grabbed some smaller bits of driftwood and then followed her inside.

"Oh, good," she said as he sat down.

"What?" he asked setting up a smaller fire as the larger one outside slowly died down under the deluge.

"I was afraid you'd insist on remaining outside," she said. "Like the noble idiot you usually are."

"Not when it's raining," he said grinning a little. "Hard to be noble when you look like a drowned rat."

She smiled and watched him make a small fire just enough inside the shelter so that it didn't get wet and the smoke was carried out.

Seeing as it was still late afternoon and the storm was just settling in, Abigail handed him two pieces of fish and they ate in silence, watching the rain and the surf. When they'd finished, they sat in awkward silence. Never before had Abigail wished so much for a tea set. Despite all her professions about wanting to explore and leave society behind, at heart, she was very much a product of her upbringing and there was something terribly comforting about a tea set. She knew how to make a very good cup of tea and her hand was incredibly steady whilst pouring, so…

Oh, she feared she'd commit atrocities for a cup of tea.

She glanced at Billy and saw him glance away from her, his brow furrowing.

Had he…been looking at her?

Despite telling herself to settle down, she felt the tell-tale warmth in her cheeks that proceeded a blush. For lack of anything else to do, she plucked at the garter still tied around her wrist.

"Do, ah," Billy cleared his throat. "What's Virginia like?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You didn't make it that far up the coast?"

"We weren't exactly stopping to admire the scenery," he said drily.

"Oh, yes, well." She thought for a moment. "Virginia is… Well, it's very much like the rest of the colonies. The town itself is getting larger and larger by the day and it's filled with everything a person could want. Shops, houses, churches, schools… But the moment you leave the town, the land turns…wild."

He looked at her. "Wild?"

She nodded. "Unexplored and covered with trees so tall they stretch into the heavens. England is positively tame in comparison. They even say that bears and wolves roam the countryside."

"Really?" he asked.

"Well, that's what they say," she admitted. "I never saw them. Only birds. Oh, so many birds. Beautiful red birds called cardinals and bluebirds. The air smells of the countryside, even in the middle of the township. Not at all like London which always smelled of buildings."

"It sounds as though you liked it," he said.

"The problem was never the land itself," she said laughing quietly, "only the people who inhabit it."

"I believe I know what you mean," he said. "Did you never venture further inland? I've heard fur trappers talking about great mountains."

"I never saw much beyond the edges of the populated areas," she said. "But the men on the expedition had been to the mountain ranges and said they were incredible to behold. The air was so cold it would freeze the breath before it left your lungs."

A sharp wind blew into their shelter and Abigail shivered as it chilled the damp of her dress. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he looked at her. His brow furrowed when another breeze swept through and she shivered again. The muscle in his jaw jumped again.

"I'm sorry," she said looking away and wrapping her arms around herself.

"What?" he asked sounding confused.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I can't seem to help it." He stared at her and she clarified, "The shivering. I can see that it's annoying you. My dress is still rather wet from fishing and the rain."

His eyes widened and shut with a grimace. "I'm not…" He chuckled and opened his eyes to look at her. "We're forever going to be coming at opposite ends, aren't we?"

"Are we?"

"I'm annoyed," he admitted. "But not because you're shivering. But _because_ you're shivering."

She ran through what he'd just said again in her mind and burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she did so.

"I'm going to credit the last several days alone with you on this island as the reason I understood that," she said smiling even as she shivered. "As I know you wish to, how to you plan to rectify the situation?"

"Well, short of throwing you on the fire, I have an idea, but it won't be proper," he said. "It should warm you, though."

If it had been any other man, Abigail would have suspected him of trying to charm her. But as it was Billy, she took him at his word.

"Billy," she said. "I'm currently using my stockings as sash and a garter ribbon for a hair tie. Propriety has long ceased to be a concern of mine."

His mouth twitched as he said, "Well, I gave you fair warning," and then he reached for her.

In one fluid motion, Abigail found herself enfolded in his arms, perched on his thigh, bracketed by his bent knee. She felt caught and sheltered and excited and…very warm.

"Good heavens, you're a fire," she said pressing her cold hands to his chest. Realizing that this was hardly an appropriate gesture, she pulled them back and started to apologize. But Billy reached up with one hand and covered both of hers, pressing them back to his chest.

"Always run a bit warmer that most," he said, his voice sounding slightly strangled. His mouth was somewhere near her temple and his breath warmed her skin and she shivered, but most certainly not from the cold. Still, he pulled her a shade closer.

"I imagine being warm is a useful trait," she said while her senses whirled and tripped over one another at his intense closeness.

"Still been through my share of cold nights," he said. "Nothing quite like a snowstorm while you're out at sea."

"Goodness," she said. "I'd imagine not. What is that like?"

"White," he said. "White everywhere. Blinding and cold. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's up and what's down, let alone east or west. But I'll take snow over a becalmed sea any day."

"Becalmed?" she asked.

"No wind, no current," he said, his fingers flexing on her hands and she curled her fingers into a fist over his heart. "Nothing but the sun and water that you cannot drink."

"It sounds like torture," she said softly.

"Yeah," he said shortly, his hand on her waist pulled her that much closer and she doubted that he was even aware of it.

"Surely, in all your time at sea, you've seen beauty, though?" she asked.

Billy was quiet and Abigail glanced up only to freeze. His gaze was firmly fixed on her face. Blood rushed into her cheeks and she had to remind herself that he wasn't like the 'gentlemen' she'd met in the past. He wasn't holding her gaze to flirt or assume some kind of advantage, he was merely…assessing.

And oh, this was what she'd been fearing and desiring for the last few days. The focus of Billy Bones aimed directly at her. It was overwhelming and all he was doing was looking at her. His gaze dropped to her lips and her own vision swam for a delicious and terrifying moment, before his looked back into her eyes.

"My first sea voyage was horrendous," he said matter-of-factly. "I was kept on my knees swabbing the decks. Endlessly cleaning and dodging the officers. I was in the middle of the ocean for weeks but I don't remember seeing the god damn sea once. I only saw the grain of the wood I cleaned."

Something in her chest began to ache as she pictured a group of young boys stolen from their families and facing the horrible unknown.

"After several weeks of storms and rain, we pulled into port at Barbados and I finally lifted my head," he continued. "There were all these birds everywhere you looked. Brilliant, loud birds of reds and greens and blues; hell, some colours I'd never seen before. You know how London can seem so grey? This?" He shook his head. "For a moment I thought I was dead, because surely no place on earth could possibly hold this much brilliance." He looked away from her out at the sea. "But I wasn't dead and I was sent below with the other boys while the officers went ashore.

"So, yes, I've seen beauty. Terrible, terrible beauty that defies all logic," he said. "But it always comes with a price. Always."

Abigail looked away from his face and stared at his hand that held both of hers so easily and carefully. Each finger had marks and scars on it. Each pad was callused. She could feel the roughness of his palm compared to the softness of her own hands. Unsure as to how it would be received, but incapable of stopping her need to show him that his words had serious import, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

She felt his entire body jerk as though she'd punched him, and his head snapped down to look at her. But she just breathed slowly, in and out, and rubbed her cheek minutely against the rough linen of his shirt. His heart pounded beneath their clasped hands and she felt hers pound in response.

After several long moments that were filled by the pounding of their hearts and the surf outside the shelter, Billy broke the silence with, "'Course there was that time we saw a whale larger than the ship."

Abigail blinked and shook her head. "Now, you're just funning me."

"God's own truth," he said. "Big monster of a fellow. Or lady. You can never be sure with whales." Abigail laughed. "He drew up alongside us. Eyed us for a moment and must have decided we weren't the trouble and slipped below. Disappeared. Of course, we were all panicking. Would a cannon even make a dent in a creature that big? Just glad we never had to find out."

"Have you seen a kraken?" she asked smiling against his chest.

"Yep."

"You have not."

"Saw something awful big with tentacles," he said squeezing her side. "Might've been a kraken."

"What about mermaids?"

"Not yet."

"Hmmm," she said sighing. "I'd hoped to see amazing things on the expedition. They promised wonders and sights no one else had ever beheld."

"Instead you're stuck on what's nothing better than a sandbar with a pirate," he said. "Hardly any wondrous sights round here."

"Oh, I don't know," she said without thinking. "I'll not be forgetting the sight of you chopping down that tree anytime soon."

She froze once she heard herself and cringed, even while he chuckled. "It wasn't a very big tree."

"All the same," she said weakly, mortified beyond belief at herself. She fought the urge to just press her entire face against his chest and smother herself.

"One night, the sea glowed," he said shifting them a little so that he reclined against the sturdiest part of the shelter, never once letting Abigail go. She followed him and stretched out slightly, her head resting on his chest.

"It glowed?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Don't know what it was. Jellyfish, of a sort. The water was just bright with light even though it was the dead of night. Never seen the like again."

"How fantastic," she murmured, her eyes becoming heavy as Billy's warmth and the sound of the rain began to lull her to sleep. "What about sharks?"

"Yeah, but they're not that bad," he said. "And they're decent enough to eat."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'll take your word for it."

"Better than raw eels," he said.

"Raw eels?" she repeated. "Oh, my."

"Yeah, I don't recommend it," he chuckled. "One time I saw flowers made of ice floating in the sea."

"Flowers made of ice?" she said her eyes closing, the steady thump of his heart by her ear matching the beat of her own heart.

"Yeah," he said. "They looked like large snowflakes, just drifting on the sea. Picked one up and it melted in my hand. Tasted like salt."

She smiled against his chest. "Salty snowflakes."

"Mmm hmm," he said. "And there was that one time when a group of dolphins raced us all the way from Nassau to Tortuga…"

As he spoke of the sea and its creatures and the rain poured down, Abigail drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Billy's first thought upon waking was that his bunk had never been this pleasant and warm before.

His second thought upon waking as he looked down at the young woman still enfolded in his arms was: Fuck.

But he made no move to shift her and instead ran the tip of one finger along the top of her hand where it lay curled upon his chest.

She was so very tiny and warm and slight in his arms and an unfamiliar feeling stole over him. It was so unfamiliar it took him some time to figure out what it was.

Tenderness.

He felt…tender towards the woman in his arms. He supposed it was simply a reflection of the tenderness that she had shown him the night before. After his very cynical, if true, recounting of his first seas voyage, she had simply curled up against him, offering him understanding in the form of comfort. It had been some time since anyone had shown him true comfort. Actual, physical comfort, that is. Gates had been a mentor and a true mate, and Billy had always found a certain type of companionship amongst the crew as they worked together. But for someone to lay their head upon him and hold his hand? Hell, he couldn't remember a time when someone had done that. His parents? His siblings? It was foreign and kind and…

And it scared the hell out of him.

He eyed Abigail in his arms with a great deal of wariness but still found himself tracing the line of her hand. She sighed a little and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head.

 _Oh Christ, I am in such fucking trouble_ , he thought as stared into her dark, sleepy eyes as her lips curved up into a smile.

"Morning," she said softly, before glancing down. "Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"'S fine," he said. "I, uh, I gotta take a piss, though."

She blinked at him and he cringed internally. But then she grinned. "So do I, now that you mention it."

He watched her sit up and scratch at her head and flip that long plait of hers over her shoulder. They both got to their feet and headed in opposite directions into the trees.

Once he finished and had thoroughly berated himself for being such an idiot (Holding her? Telling her stories? What the fuck?), he walked onto the beach to see her already kicking the remains of their small fire out of the shelter.

He moved to help her and they built up the larger fire once again, moving some of the still smouldering bits of wood to the bottom to dry the wetter pieces.

"Amazing," she said after they'd fixed the fire and she stood, hands on her hips, as she looked at the sea.

"What?" he asked checking the lean-to and satisfied that it'd probably weather another few storms.

"The sea," she said quietly. "It's so changeable. Tempestuous one moment, still as a mill pond the next."

"Some men say the same of women," he said.

"Some women say the same of men," she retorted, glancing at him, her eyes clear and bright in the rising sun.

He smirked down at her and noticed a smudge of charcoal from the firewood on her cheek.

"Ah, you have," he said as he lifted his hand to her face. He smoothed his thumb over the smudge without considering his actions and only stopped when he saw how still she was and how wide her eyes had grown. He stared back at her, his fingers coming to rest against her hair, cradling her head. Unable to stop himself, he rubbed gently at the mark on her cheek, ostensibly to remove it, but a darker, deeper part of himself that he thought he'd suppressed ages ago simply wanted to gauge her reaction to his touch.

Her eyes remained fixed on his and he knew, god damn it, he fucking _knew_ he was playing with fire and tempting fate and dancing on the edge and everything in between and every fibre of his being shouted at him to stop.

But he couldn't seem to lift his hand from her face.

Finally, a pop from the fire startled them both and he dropped his hand.

"Uh," he said, for a moment not exactly sure where he was.

"Yes," she said looking anywhere but at him. "I, um, should refill the water."

"Right, yeah," he said nodding. "I could use a bit of water, I'll come with you."

She nodded and went to pick up the bucket, but Billy got there first. She peered up at him with a look that he couldn't quite decipher and so he smiled, bowed his head and gestured.

"After you, Miss Ashe," he said feeling like ten kinds of a fool. But she smiled back and turned smartly on her heel and headed towards the pool.

They walked across the beach in silence and immediately Billy regretted letting her go first. His eyes kept returning to her feet. He felt odd, but he hadn't spent all that much time in the company of women. Certainly not ladies. His experiences in brothels tended to be brief and infrequent. He'd never been as fond of fucking as the other men. He'd always had the image of his parents in the back of his mind. The way his father had looked at his mother; the way she'd lightly touch his shoulder as she'd pass him at the table. He'd grown up seeing love and he was nothing if not genuine in everything he did, so why should fucking be any different? Imitating an act that generally held import had little appeal for him.

Besides, it left a person vulnerable and there was too much to do to waste any time on vulnerability.

However, as he watched Abigail Ashe's tiny little ankles flecked with sand and dirt kick up sand with every step, he felt stirrings of that blasted tenderness mixed with other darker, more sensual, longings and he really needed to stop looking at her damn feet.

They arrived at the pool to discover that the top rock was spilling over with rain water due to the heavy rainfall the night before.

Abigail cupped some water in her hand and drank. "It's fresher than usual," she commented.

Billy followed suit and drank deep. Then he splashed his face, neck and arms with the cool water. He noticed Abigail copy his motions and he had to tear his gaze away from the trickle of water that ran along her collarbone and then disappeared into her…

He dunked his entire head in the pool.

When he lifted his head, and gasped for air, he found Abigail staring at him.

"Are you…well?" she asked hesitantly.

"Better now," he said not looking at the droplets of water on her cheeks and throat. No, he wasn't looking at all. "Did you say something about those rocks the other day? The higher ones?"

He leapt up onto the edge of the pool as she said, her tone making it clear she was still puzzling him out, "Oh, yes. I think it's a rather deep depression in that top rock. Could it be a spring?"

"Didn't think the island was that type," he said peering into the crevice. "Maybe…"

He jumped down and walked around the rocks, Abigail followed him.

"We haven't really explored this area," she said as they walked a few feet from the pool where the brush cleared and only dirty sand and a few trees grew.

"Haven't really seen the point," Billy said walking on. "Any kind of ship would come from the other side."

He paused and stared at the ground. Something wasn't quite right…

"What is it?" Abigail asked from a few feet away.

"I don't know," he said squinting and tilting his head. "But something looks wrong with the ground."

"Wrong?" she asked. "How can the ground look wrong?"

He shook his head and took a step forward and the sand beneath his boots creaked.

Wait.

 _Creaked?_

He spun around with his hand outstretched to stop Abigail from coming any closer and the very last thing he saw as he fell through the earth was her horrified expression.


	6. On the Island V

A/N:Just a brief note before we get into it. I wanted to mention that I'm afraid I'll be going on a bit of a hiatus during November and possibly December. I'm going to be doing my level best to complete an original novel I've been working on during NaNoWriMo, so I'm setting this little story to the side while I do that. I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY HOWEVER! I have far too many plans for these two and we've only hit the tip of the iceburg.

That being said, I think I've left things in a fairly satisfactory place... Thank you so, so, so much for all of your continued support and please enjoy!

* * *

Abigail watched in horror as Billy fell through the earth. She clapped a hand to her mouth at the sound of a crash and an 'oomph'!

"Billy!" she shouted, breaking out of her frozen terror and running to the odd hole in the ground, stopping just at the edge where the ground seemed to sink and creak under her feet.

"Yeah," he said, his voice muffled.

Relief washed over her at the sound of his voice, and she knelt down and edged towards the hole. She discovered that the creaking was actually wooden boards that had rotted and given way when Billy stepped on them. Wooden boards in the middle of an island? She dismissed them and focussed on Billy.

"Are you all right?" she called down to him.

"Yeah," he said and she peered into the darkness, just able to make out his upturned face. "I'm fine."

His voice was tight with pain, so she retorted, "I don't believe you. Are you injured?"

"It's fine, I'm fine," he said looking up at her and trying to smile but only managing a grimace. "I'll be better with some light."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course!" she said. "I'll return shortly."

"I'll be here," he said, managing an actual grin this time.

"You're not funny," she said laughing weakly. She edged away from the hole and when the ground felt stable, she got to her feet and began to rush back to the beach. However, she stopped beside the Spanish skeleton and a terrible, horrible idea came to her head.

"Oh, I'm certainly not supposed to do this," she said under her breath. However, she ignored the parts of her that recoiled in disgust, and picked up what she supposed was a leg bone and wrapped the remaining tattered cloth around the top of the bone. Then she dashed to the beach and over to the large fire that was burning away. The fabric lit handily.

She started to rush back to Billy, but paused long enough to grab the flask he'd given her a few days ago. Satisfied it was still filled with water, she tucked it into her sash and then dashed back.

A few short moments later, she was back at the hole holding her makeshift torch aloft.

"I'm back," she called down.

"Oh, good girl," he said looking up and then squinting. "Is that a leg bone?"

"It seemed a sturdier choice than a branch," she said, lifting her chin.

He stared at her before he said, "I can safely say that I've not met anyone quite like you, Abigail Ashe."

"I'm going to assume that was a compliment," she said primly. "Especially considering that I'm up here and you're down there. Now, how do we get you out of there?"

"Shine the light," he said. "But brace yourself and don't fall in, or we're both fucked."

She looked around and saw an exposed tree root. Grabbing hold, she leaned towards the hole and lowered the torch into the hole. And oh, she knew he was hurt! A gash down the length of his bicep trickled with blood, even through the bit of cloth he'd hastily wrapped around it.

Abigail glared at Billy, but he just said, "It's just a scratch."

"That's a great deal of blood for 'just a scratch'," she retorted.

"I'll deal with it later," he said. "Just shine the light around first."

She did as asked and frowned at what she saw. "It's a cave?"

Water trickled down wet curved walls to pool in a corner where the water disappeared into the earth, presumably to just below the island. Moss and tree roots wound through the earth just above Billy's head and it appeared as though someone had simply boarded up the entrance with wooden slats, which had rotted over time until Billy trod upon them.

Abigail shone the light over to the other wall and spotted a trunk of some kind with a small pile in front of it. The pile…glinted.

"Billy," she said on an exhale.

Gold.

Actual gold.

It glittered around and inside the broken trunk. Another skeleton was propped up beside it, a rapier embedded in his chest.

"Fuck," he said flatly. "I fucking knew it."

"Oh, my," she breathed, watching the gold as it gleamed in the firelight.

"Yeah," he said getting to his feet with a wince, his arm hanging heavily at his side. He walked over to the gold, eyed the skeleton, then crouched down. The light from Abigail's torch made his shadow dance and flicker on the wall as he reached out a hand and picked up a gold coin.

He held it up to shine in the firelight.

"Fuck," he said again. "The closest I ever got to the Urca gold was in a fucking chest while I helped bloody Jack Rackham escape from the fucking governor. Never actually saw the damn stuff."

Abigail watched the light play on the coin and on Billy's face as he frowned.

"The things men do for this shit," he said staring at the coin. With a shake of his head, he tossed the coin to the ground and faced her.

"Not exactly impressed by it, are you?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "Are you?"

"Not precisely?" She shrugged rather helplessly. "I've always had some form of currency to my name, so I suppose I couldn't really say that I've ever yearned for something I already possessed."

He nodded. "Yeah. Shine that torch just below you?"

She held tightly to her tree root as she directed the light away from Billy to just beneath where she knelt. On the ground lay an old rope ladder.

"Right," he said walking over to it. "I figure that our old friend that you're holding there, stabbed his mate here and waited out the whole thing up there till he died of his own injuries."

"They killed each other?" she asked.

"Maybe they realized no one was coming back for them," he said picking up the old rope ladder. He looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

"Should _I_?" she asked arching an eyebrow of her own.

"Nah," he said. "I'm kind of getting used to someone else cooking for me."

"Ridiculous man," she said shaking her head.

He winked at her and said, "Drop the torch down and I'll throw the ladder up to you. See if you can get it fixed to something."

"All right," she said. "Stand back."

He moved back and she dropped the torch. It clattered to the ground, but kept it's flame. Billy picked it up, hefting the bone in his hand and shaking his head over it. He lit a small bundle of twigs in the corner of the cave.

Then, wincing as the movement clearly tugged at his injury, he tossed the rope ladder up to Abigail.

* * *

A good half hour filled with false starts and some rushed education Billy gave Abigail on knot-tying, Billy held the bottom of the rope ladder steady as Abigail descended.

"Oh," she said when she reached the end of the rope and a good foot of air was between her feet and the ground.

"I have you," Billy said, moving in close and curling his good arm around her middle and easily lifting her to the ground. Once she had her feet on the ground, she turned in his arms and immediately looked at his shoulder. He looked down at her and wondered once again at how such a fragile-looking woman could possess such inner strength.

"That's a bit more than a scratch, Mr Bones," she said eyeing the bloody cloth he tied around his shoulder.

He stared at her, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Abigail. There's a pile of gold in the corner over there, and you're worried about my arm?"

"Of course," she said frowning. "And it's fascinating, I've never seen Spanish gold before. But your shoulder is my immediate concern. Would you rather I be more fixated on the gold?"

"No, now that you mention it," he said the corners of his lips curving upwards before he turned to look at the gold. "All the same, I'm not too sure what to do with that."

"You really don't want it?" she asked.

"No," he said flatly. "It's useful enough, I suppose, but -"

"Useful enough?" she repeated looking at the gold. "It's terribly useful, I'd say."

"Would you?" he asked chuckling.

She fixed him with a look. "Money opens doors. Doors you thought were closed to you by reason of your birth or your sex or whatever. But when you have money and the means to use it, you'd be surprised the things you can accomplish."

"Such as funding an entire expedition to the South Americas?" he asked.

"Precisely," she said before she took a step closer, her face tilted up to his, her eyes sparkling in the firelight and Billy found himself transfixed. "I know the perils of possessing such things and I know that it can corrupt and taint with a kind of ease that has always frightened me. But if used wisely, there is much it can accomplish, as well."

"I know," he said even as she arched an eyebrow at him and he chuckled. "Abigail, I know it's use. I'm not such an agitator to ignore what money in the hands of decent people can do. I just hate the god damned stuff."

"Oh, well, that's understandable," she said looking at the skeleton with the rapier protruding from it's chest. "It does tend to lead to terrible things."

"Too many terrible things," Billy said thinking of Gates and the madness the Urca gold had created in it's wake.

"Now, then. Your shoulder," she said. "Come sit by the light."

"I can manage, you know," he asked, still doing as she said and sitting down by the small fire he'd built near the gold.

"Oh, I know," she said kneeling beside him and laying a hand on his arm that he stared down at in a terrible mix of confusion and something he thought might be desire. "However, you've already done a great deal for me, let me do this for you."

"Can you?" he asked his brow furrowing as he looked up at her. She blinked and he clarified, "Ah, sort this wound out, I mean?"

"I can indeed," she said plucking a few bits of, good God, had that been her petticoat, white cloth from heaven knew where along with the flask. She smiled as she wet one of the cloths. "At school were were often paired up with another girl. More or less to keep track of one another. My pair was a very boisterous girl from Paris called Clotilde. She had the sad misfortune to be one of the clumsiest people I've ever met. She was forever in matron's office, which meant I was forever in matron's office."

She undid the cloth around his shoulder, wrinkled her nose briefly, then proceeded to pat the wound with the dampened cloth. It was gentle and thorough and Billy found he couldn't take his eyes off of her mouth as she spoke.

"Eventually, the matron decided that it would be more efficient if I could handle Clotilde's more minor injuries," she said as she wiped at the streaks of blood and peered at the gash. "I learned some rudimentary skills and then whenever Clotilde tripped over her skirts, I was able to save us both the trip to the matron."

His hands clenched into fists and he tore his gaze away from her and bowed his head. Her soft touches were driving him mad. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Hell, did _he_ have any idea what it was she was doing to him? He couldn't remember feeling this muddled and confused and the fact that he was also aching all over to touch her just meant he was a mess and he had no idea what to fucking do.

"Did you like school?" he asked to keep her talking because he clearly wished to be done in by the sound of her voice near his ear.

Abigail paused, then spoke, "Not really. Well, I enjoyed some subjects and we had a wonderful library. But I spent so much of my time there, even during holidays, I hardly saw anything outside of the school grounds. And I knew that the full extent of my education was really only to further my father's ambitions, not mine."

"How so?" he asked finally raising his head to look at her, immediately wishing he hadn't, for the look on her face was so sad it stung his chest.

"I was only to be educated enough to hold my own in a conversation and to be a credit to my family," she said. "I wasn't to be educated for my own interests. I was only ever going to be an asset for my father to marry off for whatever alliance would suit him best."

She glanced at him and he wondered what kind of an expression he wore, for her eyes widened and she said quickly, "Not that he would have married me off to someone I despised. He would have listened to my opinion-" Her voice trailed off and her eyes slid to the side. "Well, he might have listened. But perhaps not. Hold this, please."

Her fingers curled around his hand and pressed it to his shoulder to hold a folded piece of cloth in place while she wrapped a longer piece of cloth around his bicep.

"Where did you get the cloth from?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but unable to contain his curiosity.

Pink filled her cheeks as she said, "My petticoat."

"That's what I thought," he said smirking. "Did your matron teach you that?"

"Not quite," she said tying off the cloth with a sharp tug. Billy winced and she gasped. "Oh, did I hurt you?"

"Nah," he said smiling a little.

"Well, that's that," she said lowering her hands to her lap. "Oh and of course -"

Billy watched, frozen in wonder, as she pursed her lips and leaned towards his shoulder and blew gently on the skin above the bandage. Her breath teased his skin and his stomach trembled and his abdomen tightened.

She smiled a little and looked at him in satisfaction. "To send the pain away," she explained. "It's something my mother used to do."

He could only stare at her, speechless and unable to look away. She took his wonder for disgust and looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said twisting her fingers together. "I don't know why I did that."

After a long moment, he cleared his throat. "My mother did something similar; when I was a lad."

She looked up at him and smiled at him. "I don't know how effective it truly is."

"Pretty effective," he said. "I'm not feeling any pain at present." She ducked her head and Billy coughed as he looked away feeling like ten kinds of a fool. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked.

"Nothing, everything," he said. "I'm sorry you were lonely at school, I suppose."

If her expression was anything to go by, Billy suspected that was the first time anyone had ever expressed such a sentiment to her, so he explained himself, "I've always had my crew beside me. I may not always agree with them, but I know they have my back and I have theirs. It's been some time since I was lonely. Having them around...it's always given me something to protect. To work for. I'm sorry you haven't had that."

Her lips trembled and her eyes turned overbright and he wondered if she was about to start crying because he really didn't know what he'd do if she did. But she was made of sterner stuff than that was Miss Abigail Ashe, because she just sniffed and blinked before smiling at him.

"I know that you'll most likely disagree with me," she said, "but you are a very kind man to say that, Billy Bones."

"I'm not-" he started.

She shook her head. "Don't argue. Please. Just...accept the compliment."

"Well, far be it for me to argue with a lady," he said and she laughed.

"Thank you," she said. "And you're correct. I never had a crew of my own. My family was small to begin with and school was too strict and structured to truly encourage confidences." She shook her head. "Do you know that I was honestly looking so forward to my journey to the Americas? I would finally be able to see the world and all of it's wonders. To experience true, oh, I don't know, unpredictability, I suppose. School was so very predictable. I always knew precisely where I had to be and what was expected of me." She sighed and looked over at the gold. "I suppose I should have been more careful about what I wished for."

"No one could have predicted what happened to you," he said clenching his hand into a fist so that he didn't reach out a trace the shadows the firelight threw on her face.

"There's something to be said for predictability after all," she said turning back to look at him, her face back in the light and shining with hope.

As he stared at her, something in him broke free and unfurled it's wings. He was in the middle of an island, there was water and food and a pile of gold that was his for the taking. And, most incredibly of all, there was a beautiful woman staring at him with firelight dancing in her eyes and lips whose softness he ached to discover for himself.

"Predictable is very well and good," he said reaching out a hand to her, his fingers drifted lightly over the apple of her cheek. "But sometimes unpredictability has merits of it's own."

Her eyes widened but she made no protest as his fingers trailed over her cheek to trace the curve of her ear and finally to land gently on the fluttering pulse in her neck. He brushed his fingers down her throat and across her collarbone, enthralled by the flush of pink that followed in the wake of his touch. Her chest seemed to shudder and his eyes lifted to see her staring intently at him, her lips parted, her breathing shallow.

Billy leaned in…

The moment his lips pressed against hers he knew he'd miscalculated.

Oh, Mother of God, had he miscalculated the depth of his own desires when it came to this woman. His mouth pressed chastely to hers and when she returned the pressure ever so slightly, a sound rumbled up from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth as he curved his hand around to cradle her head. She went soft and pliant and when she sighed into his mouth, he groaned again, pressing his lips to hers over and over. When she sighed again and her lower lip slipped between his lips, he slid his tongue along the soft, pink flesh. Abigail gasped at the touch of his tongue and he pulled back and turned away, removing his hand from her.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. "I..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and then reopened them, only to see the gold gleaming in the firelight. His eyes narrowed. Fucking gold.

Making him mad.

Making him take advantage.

"I'm sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "That was wrong of me."

"Was it?" she asked, her voice quiet and tremulous.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I told you that first day that I wasn't that sort of man. I won't treat you that way, Abigail."

"And how, exactly, do you think you've treated me?" she asked and this time he thought he heard a bite to her tone.

He turned to look at her and saw her sitting tall, her lips red from his kiss and her eyes fixed on his face.

"I'm taking advantage," he said slowly. "I'm clearly in possession of all the power here and I could..."

"Could what?" she asked tilting her head to the side.

He sighed. "Let it go, Abigail, please. I shouldn't have kissed you and I apologize."

"Did you," she swallowed but didn't look away from him, "not want to? Kiss me, that is?"

"I wanted to," he said. "And so I did. And that's the problem. I saw something I wanted and I took it. I let my desires dictate my actions and I cannot afford to do that."

"I see," she said frowning and he doubted that she truly saw, but if this was her acquiescing, he'd accept. But as always seemed to be the case with Abigail, she wasn't quite finished with him. "In that case, I suppose you will be duty bound to owe me retribution of some kind."

"Yes," he said nodding. "Of course. I'm at your disposal."

"Good," she said with a quick nod. "In that case, I wish to collect."

"What would you have me do to make amends?" he asked.

"I would have you hold. very. still," she said.

Billy had only a moment to decipher her words before her small hand reached up and cupped his jaw. He stilled and let her fingers explore the lines of his face and his skin prickled with heat and he felt a groan build in his chest.

And then she was rising up to press her lips to his and Billy Bones was lost.


	7. On the Island VI

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, but I promise I haven't forgotten this story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

* * *

 _This_ , Abigail thought as she pressed her lips to Billy's and felt the rumble of his groan vibrate throughout her body. _This was why I boarded the Hadley._

To experience the world with all her senses, to feel things, to explore. To discover everything that the world held and to get a taste of the unknown. It felt as though the entire world had condensed to the not insubstantial size of Billy Bones and he was hers to map out. Her hands roamed over his body, not content to just remain on his face. Her palms smoothed over the broadness of his shoulders, the firmness of his muscles under rough, hot skin. She could feel raised lines under his shirt that had to be scars and she couldn't stop running her hands over and over them, memorizing each one. His hand smoothed down her back to her waist where he fitted his palm in the dip of her stomach and hip. His fingers spread and flexed, she gasped at the sensations that raced through her body. In response, he moaned and his tongue dipped into her mouth as he bore her down onto the gold, his shoulders blocking out the sun so that he was all she was aware of.

She'd seen lovers in a garden once while at a party. The man had cupped the woman's breast while he kissed her. The woman had looked…transported and her mouth had opened to the man's. Such noises they had made. Noises that had all at once embarrassed and inflamed her. It hadn't made sense to Abigail at the time as to why the woman would allow such an action. But now? Oh, now she understood. Billy's tongue was warm inside her mouth and she shivered. He drew back, but she made a small sound and chased after his mouth with hers. With a renewed enthusiasm, Billy resumed kissing her. His stubble tickled her cheeks and chin but she wasn't tempted to laugh. No, she only wanted to feel him against her, so large and strong and overwhelming in the best of ways.

She arched under him as she tried to get as close to him as she could. Some of the gold beneath her clinked to the ground and flashed in the beam of sunlight from the hole in the ground above.

Billy stilled.

A sick feeling rose in Abigail's stomach as he lifted himself up with slow, careful movements. His eyes met hers and they looked pained, especially when they dipped to look at her lips which felt swollen and hot.

"I shouldn't have… That god damn gold," he said wincing as he closed his eyes. "Forgive me."

In one swift movement, he was off of Abigail and striding over to the rope ladder, his back to her.

Something like shame and anger swamped her and her eyes filled with humiliated tears. But she'd be damned if she let him see them. She took a quiet breath and then got to her feet, swiping under her eyes and straightening her dress where he'd rucked it up.

"You'd better go first," she said as she came up behind him. "I won't have the strength to pull you up should the rope break."

He glanced at her and she took some satisfaction in seeing how his own lips resembled hers, all pink and wet. She lifted her chin when he made to speak, but something in her expression must have warned him against saying another word, for he just gritted his teeth and climbed up the rope ladder.

When he was on the ground, Abigail allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and steady her nerves. A trembling hand lightly touched her lips and traced the outline of them. Her first kiss. Her first proper kiss had been in a cave beside a pile of gold and a Spanish skeleton. Perhaps that old missionary lady had been right and Abigail was a mess and desperately in need of deliverance. She dropped her hand and dismissed the missionary's voice from her mind, and then she climbed up the ladder.

"We should cover this back up," Billy said after he helped her to her feet, taking his hands away from her as soon as she was stable. He eyed her with a fair amount of apprehension and she wondered what kind of expression she wore. Her cheeks felt hot and her jaw ached from how tightly she clenched it.

"Whatever you think is best," she said her hands folded together in front of her.

He paused and grimaced before he looked at her and said, "Look, I have no problem with what I am, all right? I'm a pirate. I'm not some gentleman who will be everything you'd like him to be. I can't make you any promises and I refuse to give into my own urges and… And…"

"And what?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "You weren't the only participant down there. So, please do me the courtesy of acknowledging that I was just as…involved in our interlude as you were. I'm not so innocent to not know what happens between a man and a woman."

"Yeah, but I'm sure you're not wanting to have it happen with a man who hasn't got two coins to rub together," he said, before he pointed his finger at her. "And that treasure down there doesn't count. I'm not an option for you, Abigail. So, don't go thinking that I am."

"What are you talking about? It was a kiss. A simple kiss," she said completely lying to herself. There was nothing simple about that kiss and they both knew it.

"The hell it was," he said stepping in close to tower over her. "And if you're not level-headed enough to see it for the danger it is, I sure as hell am."

"I'm perfectly level-headed!" she said, not stamping her foot, but it was a close thing. "You're the one who is overreacting."

"I'm not overreacting!" he shouted.

Abigail's eyes widened and she nearly took a step back; but Billy took one himself and lowered his head.

"It's no good, Abigail," he said, his voice low and dull. "I shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. I started this and I'm sorry for it."

"I see," she said, her eyes betraying her again as they watered. "Well, then, I don't suppose there's anything to add. We shall just have to move forward. We're still in our original situation; that hasn't changed. In fact, nothing has truly changed."

"Yeah, it has," he said chuckling, but not he didn't sound the slightest bit amused, as he looked up. "I know what its like to touch you. I know what you taste like and how your body feels against mine. And I'm not going to be able to forget that anytime soon."

A flush filled her cheeks and her heart thudded in her ribcage, even as her stomach churned with a bittersweet delight.

"Neither will I," she said softly. "Billy-"

"Fill up the water bucket," he said turning away from her. "I'll sort this out."

She watched as he started to fashion something to cover the hole and eventually, she turned away. Emotions warred for prominence in her mind and because the others were too depressing to consider, Abigail settled on irritation. Irritation at the world, at Billy, and at herself for allowing herself to dream, if only for a few heated, lovely moments, of something undiscovered.

She filled the bucket with jerky movements, not daring to look over at him for fear that she'd chuck the entire thing at his head. When she was done, she chanced a glance, only to discover that he was already watching her.

With every ounce of good breeding in her, she straightened her spine, steeled her expression, picked up the water bucket, and walked away.

Abigail tried not to storm off, as ladies did not 'storm', but her tread was decidedly sharp, and she was well aware that Billy had stopped to stare after her with regret etched all across his face.

 _Well,_ she thought as she held her head high. _If he didn't want regrets, he shouldn't have done anything. As if all I want from a man is his prospects. If all I wanted were decent prospects, I would have stayed in Savannah. As if I'm not perfectly aware of who he is and who he considers crew. Why should he hold me to different standards than he holds himself? Am I forever to be underestimated?_

In answer, the water sloshed from the bucket to her skirts and she scowled but kept striding forward.

"Ridiculous, short-sighted, irritating," she muttered. "Pirates."

She emerged onto the beach and it was really due to her anger that she didn't quite understand what she saw and continued to walk herself out into the open. Once she realised that there was something on the beach, she'd already walked quite clear of the cover of the trees.

Abigail came to an abrupt stop, the water sloshed even more onto her skirts, and stared at the odd object that lay halfway in the surf and halfway on the beach. She cocked her head to the side as she set the bucket down and tried to place what the object actually was. It looked like an oversized woven basket, large enough for a grown man to sit in comfortably, but certainly no more than one at a time. A small oar was abandoned on the beach a few steps away from the craft and Abigail eyed them both with dawning suspicion.

Memories of a garden party she'd attended once with her parents as a child flashed behind her eyes and she recalled seeing something similar being used in a decorative pond.

The host had a brother who was fond of history and had managed to find such an object and had demonstrated how well it floated with someone inside. The word for the little boat came into Abigail's head.

"A coracle?" she murmured. "What on earth?"

It occurred to her that perhaps storming off hadn't been the wisest idea. Especially when she heard a sound coming from the shelter.

It was a man.

A man stood beside their fire as he peered into their shelter.

How…? She glanced at the coracle. Had he _rowed_ here? And the better question was: _why_ had he rowed here?

Abigail's eyes widened and her jaw dropped and she immediately plucked her little knife from her sash, just as the person spotted her.

They stared at one another for a very long second.

"Hiya," the man eventually said. "Fancy meeting a lady here. Wasn't really expecting that, if I'm honest."

Abigail blinked and continued to stare. The man was terribly thin and had a very strong Irish accent. His face was pinched and he bore a straggly beard and his clothes looked like they were barely held together.

"Name's Murphy," he continued, his cheerful tone utterly belying the odd state of affairs they currently found themselves in. "I have to say, I truly wasn't expecting to meet such a pretty girl like this. I'd've smartened meself up, if I'd known. Wait." He drew himself up and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you real? I mean, this isn't me having one of those dream things where I meet a pretty girl and then realise that it's all in me head and not in real life?" He pinched himself and then winced. "Fuck. Real enough. Are you?"

Abigail nodded, still bewildered. "Yes. I'm quite real."

"Ooh, listen to your voice," he said closing his eyes. "You're a proper lady, I can tell." His eyes popped open. "What the hell are you doing out here? There's nothing here. There's no reason for a lady to be-ohhhhhhh. Oh, I get it." He nodded and walked towards her, Abigail took a step back. "You're not a _lady_ lady. You're a mermaid or one of those things me ma was always telling me to look out for. A, what do you call 'em, a fairy! You're a fairy mermaid like thing, ain't you?"

"No, no, I'm afraid I'm just a lady," Abigail said taking another step back, her knife held tight in her hand.

He spotted the knife and stopped to frown. "I'm not going to hurt you, mermaid. I wouldn't hurt one of the fairy folk. I'm from Ireland. I know all about the nastiness you'd do to a bloke like me if I laid a hand on you."

"That's comforting," Abigail said taking another step back and wondering if she'd gone mad or if this man had honestly appeared on the beach and was mistaking her for a mermaid.

"You don't believe me?" the man asked, still frowning. "Look, I swear on me ma's life. I mean, I don't know if she's dead yet, but she was halfway there when I left and said that if I walked out the door, I'd be finishing her off, so odds are the woman's long gone, bless her wretched soul."

"I...believe you," Abigail said after she'd figured out what he'd said.

"Ah, you don't," he said grinning as he shook his head. "But that's just because you don't think I'm real. Look. I'll show you."

He walked quickly towards her and Abigail stepped back and yelled as loud as she could.

"Billy!"

* * *

Well. He'd always suspected as much, but here was absolute proof, Billy thought as he watched Abigail walk away from him. He was a very large idiot.

All that talk about being level-headed and how he shouldn't have kissed her was all bollocks. He was just a complete bastard to her _because_ the last thing he was was level-headed. She turned his thoughts turtle constantly and he closed his eyes against the sight of her walking away from him. However, once his eyes closed, all he saw were her lips, full and ripe and sweet after he'd kissed her.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his head. He had to get a hold on himself. They still had a god damn desert island to get off of and Christ, her body had felt so soft under him and the way she'd touched him…

"Billy!"

The pure fear in Abigail's voice stopped his heart, but in the next moment, he ran towards the beach, his cutlass in hand.

A thousand different scenarios ran through his head as he raced between the trees, however, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Abigail standing in a near perfect imitation of his own defensive position, except she held her little knife in her hand, as opposed to a proper sword.

Said knife was pointed directly at...what the fuck was Drunk Murphy doing on _their_ beach?

"The fuck?" Billy said as he came to stand in front of Abigail, his cutlass aimed at Murphy. "How the fuck are you even here?"

"Billy!" Murphy said grinning. "Heard you drowned! Again. Oh, is she your mermaid? Did she save you and take you as her prisoner?"

Billy stared at him before he glanced back at Abigail who just shrugged and said, "He's not entirely sure if I'm real or imaginary." She looked at Murphy and wrinkled her nose. "I must confess that I'm not entirely sure of his own corporeality. You know him?"

"Sort of," Billy said turning back to Murphy and lowering, but not putting away, his cutlass. "Seriously, Murphy. What the fuck?"

"Well, I was at the tavern-"

"Of course you were," Billy muttered.

"And old Bailey what's-his-face said that there was no way that a man could make it across the ocean in a coracle alone," Murphy said. "Which is a damn lie! My ancestors did! It's a well known fact that an Irishman and a Welshman rowed their way across the big blue ocean in naught but a coracle."

Billy glanced at Abigail again, whose eyes were wide as she watched Murphy gesticulate as he told his tale. She met his eyes briefly and in an attempt to reassure her that they were safe, he winked at her. Her lips twitched and satisfied, Billy turned back to Murphy.

"-then he said something about the lack of virility of Irishmen and well, that's just a fucking lie, begging your pardon, miss, and really I couldn't let the insult lie," Murphy continued. "He'd insulted me ma, me heritage, and me virility in one go! That just wasn't fucking on, begging your pardon, miss, so I says to him, 'Just what does a man need to do to prove his fucking worth, you fucking English dog?', begging your pardon again, miss."

Murphy took a breath and by this point, Billy could see where the story was headed.

"Bailey bet that you couldn't row a coracle anywhere and you accepted the bet?" Billy offered, his eyebrows arched.

Murphy touched his nose and winked. "Always were a sharp lad, Billy. Bailey's a damn fool, 'cause here I fucking am. Begging your pardon, miss."

"You really don't need to," Abigail reassured him.

"And here you are!" Murphy said. "Jesus, Billy, they all think you're fucking dead. Again."

Billy had thought that would be the case, but to have it confirmed turned his stomach. No one had planned to find him. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed.

"So, she capture you?" Murphy asked nodding at Abigail. "Drag you down and bring you here? She having her way with you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Abigail's voice rose and Billy winced.

"She's not a mermaid, Murphy," Billy said putting his cutlass away.

"She looks like one," Murphy said looking Abigail up and down. "I'd let her drown me."

"I'm not-" Abigail started to say, but Billy interrupted her and said, "If she's a mermaid, where's her tail, then?"

Murphy looked stumped, then brightened, his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "She's on land, mate. Her tail's only around when she's in the water."

"I'm really not," Abigail tried to say again.

"Well, you've got me there. You're right, Murph," Billy said stepping back and laying his hand on Abigail's shoulder. "She's a mermaid."

"What?" Abigail said as Murphy crowed, "Ha! Knew it! Billy, you've got the Devil's luck, you have! You can't just bloomin' drown like a normal bloke, you've got to be rescued by a mermaid and taken back to her island. Christ."

"What are you doing?" she hissed at Billy, her eyes sharp as they glared at him.

"It's fine," he murmured. "Just play along."

Her glare intensified in pure dissatisfaction at his non-answer, but he winked at her again. In response, she elbowed his stomach.

"Don't suppose you've anything to eat?" Murphy asked scratching his chin. "Haven't had much in the way of food since I left Nassau."

"How long were you at sea?" Abigail asked.

"Oooh, er," Murphy said putting his hands on his hips as he looked up at the sky. "Four, no, five days."

"Fuck, Murphy," Billy said shaking his head. "You're lucky you're alive."

"Ah, I had the winds and the current and the truth on my side," he said grinning. "Remember. My lot made our way across the ocean before. This was a doddle."

"How much drink did you bring with you?" Billy asked.

Murphy's face fell. "Only one flask left, to me horror. Gonna have to pace meself for the row back."

"You're going back?" Abigail asked.

"'Course I am," Murphy said. "Gotta get me winnings from Bailey. And let this one's crew know that he's not dead, merely enjoying the affections of a beautiful lady."

"If you could find a better way of phrasing that, I'd be much obliged," Billy said. "Let's get you fed, mate."

"Brilliant!" Murphy said rubbing his hands together. "Oh, if you're hoping that fire of yours can be seen for miles, it can't. Only really spotted it when I saw the reef out there."

Billy glanced at Abigail sheepishly, but she just returned his look with an arched eyebrow and he hoped like hell that having Murphy around might provide a kind of buffer between them while he figured out how to proceed with her after being such a bastard.

In the meantime, he'd feed Murphy and themselves, build up the fire even more, and see what the situation in Nassau was like.

However, not an hour had passed and he'd considered throwing Murphy into his god damn floating basket at least twice.

He'd forgotten how the man couldn't be silent for more than a heartbeat at a time. Christ, the man could talk.

But what was worse?

Abigail listened to him. She asked questions. She smiled.

She _laughed_.

Billy stewed.

He stood in the surf, his teeth gritted together, his cutlass at the ready for the ever present crabs, only able to catch the odd bit of phrase from the two people behind him on the breeze.

Every now and then, Abigail's laughter would peal from her, quiet and light and when it did, his cutlass would inevitably find some poor sea creature to impale.

A dozen crabs later, he headed up to where Abigail had already readied their makeshift pot, while Murphy happily whittled away at a bit of driftwood whilst talking constantly.

"And that's when he says that he's putting up notices of dicks for people to read," Murphy said.

Abigail flushed at the word and Billy asked sharply as he dropped the crabs, "What?"

"The governor," Murphy said eyeing the crabs with hungry eyes. "He's putting up dicks all over the island."

"Dicks?" Billy repeated, _not_ looking at Abigail who was busy not looking at either of them while she dropped the crabs into the boiling water.

"Yeah, lists of things we're to do and not to do," Murphy said.

"Christ," Billy muttered. " _Edicts_. They're called edicts. And people are letting him get away with it?"

"Well, yeah," Murphy said whittling quickly. "We can't all read as well as you, mate. Certainly can't write, so…" He blew some dust off the wood and eyed it. "So he keeps putting them up and we keep ignoring them. Until someone does one of the things on the paper and gets locked up. Then a fight breaks out and the sorry mess starts all over again." He looked up at Billy. "You know, there are days when, if I wasn't sure that the Spanish would just murder us all in one go, that I'd be happier with old Phillip than old Georgie."

"Yeah," Billy said frowning. "What're the captains doing about it?"

Murphy shrugged. "Not a whole hell of a lot. Eyeing each other and snarling every so often. See that Silver with Flint and Christ, if I don't get the shivers something terrible. Was there, you know? The night he killed Mr DuFresne with that damned leg of his."

Billy looked over at Abigail, whose eyes had gone very wide as she looked at Murphy.

"Murphy," Billy said sharply.

The other man raised his head and glanced at Abigail. "Oh, yeah, not exactly polite conversation. Sorry about that, mermaid."

"It's quite all right," she said glancing at Billy who looked away.

"Anyway," Murphy said whittling quickly. "The captains are all circling the harbour like sharks while the rest of us on land are keeping out of the redcoats' ways. Well, some of us are keeping out of their way. There aren't that many to be bothering with."

Billy shook his head. "Edicts. He's issuing orders to men who'd rather spit in his eye than follow him. He's got some fucking nerve. It's not the threat of the British that's keeping the Spanish at bay, it's us. It's Teach and Flint and all the rest of us who're hellbent on protecting what's ours. Not the fucking governor. Christ."

His hands balled into fists as he stared into the flames. When he got to Nassau, he'd tell the governor precisely what he could do with his edicts.

"I believe one of these is ready to eat." Abigail's voice interrupted Billy's dark thoughts. "Mr Murphy, he's all yours."

"Ohh, I couldn't eat before a lady," he said, setting his knife and the bit of wood down.

"You can and you will," Abigail said handing him a crab.

The rumble that came from Murphy's stomach had Billy hiding a grin and he caught Abigail's eyes when she looked down to cover her own smile. Their eyes met and Billy was once again in that cave, her mouth moving sweetly under his and his hand was on her waist and all he wanted to do was pull her closer…

She looked away from him, her cheeks pink and Billy cursed internally. _Steady on, lad_ he told himself. _Stop acting like an idiot. Stop wanting things you can't have._

He made sure that she had the next crab and tried not to stare as she, now expertly, cracked the thing open and got the meat out with a steady flick of her knife. Murphy, on the other hand, watched her avidly.

"Good Lord, mermaid, you're a sight with that knife of yours," he said shaking his head. "Bet you could gut a man in a heartbeat."

She flushed while Billy rolled his eyes, and she replied, "I'm afraid I don't know how to fight, Mr Murphy."

"No? Billy, what the hell, mate? This is a lovely young woman," Murphy said glaring at Billy. "You need to make sure she can fend for herself when she sets you free."

He had no way of knowing, but Murphy's words struck Billy in his chest. _When she sets you free_. Fuck. That's what had been bothering him the whole god damn time. Not the pain that he'd cause her, but the pain she'd surely cause him. He wondered if this made him smart or a coward?

"It's quite all right, Mr Murphy," Abigail said before she sucked at a crab leg. "I have no intention of starting any fights anytime soon. And I suspect Mr Bones needs to conserve his energy for the fight ahead."

Billy's head turned sharply to look at her and she just returned his look, before popping another bit of crab into her mouth. He felt his mouth twitch and curve into a smirk. He had a feeling that he wasn't exactly forgiven, but all was not lost either. Which meant he needed to figure out what the hell he was doing. For she was right, there was a war going on, and he meant to see it through to whatever end it brought them all.

They ate in relative silence, Murphy devoured six crabs to Billy's four and Abigail's two, but Billy hardly begrudged the man for his appetite. Five days at sea with only rum was hardly sustenance enough. After they ate and Billy tossed the shells down the beach, Murphy took his whittling back up and Abigail sat in front of the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest and rested her cheek atop them.

Billy cleaned and sharpened his cutlass and listened with half an ear to Murphy's ramblings.

"Now, then," Murphy said eventually, blowing some shavings off whatever he was creating. "That should do it. Mermaid, this is for you."

Billy paused, his blade flat against the whetstone, and Abigail lifted her head.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"It's only a little thing," Murphy said getting to his feet, Billy set aside his blade and watched. "But I'm not about to eat your food and sleep on your island without giving you a gift of some sort. It's just not done."

He handed Abigail the wood he'd been carving and Abigail took it. Billy squinted at it even as Abigail gasped in delight.

"A comb! Oh, how lovely," she said turning the comb over in her hands. "Oh, thank you, Mr Murphy. It's wonderful! How clever of you to create this!"

Murphy ducked his head. "Like I said, just a little thing, but I'm much obliged that you like it."

"Well, I'm much obliged to receive it," she said smiling up at him. "I'll treasure it in the days to come."

Billy felt a frown build on his face, but he looked away when Abigail glanced at him and he went back to his blade.

"Well, I need to see a man about a horse," Murphy said winking before he headed off into the woods.

"That was kind of him," Abigail said turning the comb over in her hands. "Does he truly think I'm a mermaid? And if so, why are you letting him?"

"Because, Murphy is our best chance at a rescue," Billy said. "However, you may have noticed that he's not quite all there. He's a decent enough fellow, don't get me wrong, but the man did row himself into the sea in a basket."

"True," Abigail said, as she tugged at her plait, and undid the ribbon at the end. She undid the three long sections as best she could, and then swept it all to drape over her shoulder. Her new comb in hand, Billy watched with a suddenly dry mouth, as she set the comb to the very ends of her hair. She looked up at him and even though she blushed at seeing him studying her, she continued to comb her hair and asked, "However, why persist in the mermaid myth?"

Billy cleared his throat and looked away from her. "Because, his memory's not the best and while he might remember running into someone on an island, he might not remember the specifics. But, I'll wager he'll definitely remember that Billy Bones had washed up on a mermaid's island and was being held captive by her. That's the kind of detail that sticks with a man."

"Clearly," Abigail said.

He glanced over at her and saw that she'd combed out most of the snarls in one section of her hair and pulled the comb easily through the dark strands. He found himself hypnotized by the sight and just watched her comb her hair. The motion seemed to lull her as well as her expression as she stared into the firelight turned thoughtful even as her hands stayed in motion.

Eventually, her hair was a shining mass of brown tresses and he had the mad urge to reach out to them, and let them sift through his fingers like the silk he imagined they felt like.

However, he held himself in check and simply watched her separate her hair into the original three sections and plaited them together, and tied the ends together once more with her ribbon.

She sighed in relief and looked over at him. Her mouth parted when she realised that he'd watched her ritual.

"Murphy's gift was something of a saving grace," she said. "I was a few days away from asking you to take your sword to my hair to make it more manageable."

"I would have hated doing that," he said.

"Would you?" she asked, her words sharp, but her face gave nothing away.

Billy sighed. "Yes. You're beautiful, Abigail."

"Don't," she said shaking her head. "Don't say things like that. You're not free to say things like that to me and I don't know if I'm strong enough to let myself think I could have you like that."

"What do you mean?" he asked completely confused. "I'm free to –"

"No, you're not," she said. "You're in the middle of a war that needs your counsel and your strength. You're going to send Murphy back out onto that sea in a bloody coracle because you need to be with your brothers. You have to finish what you started." She took a trembling breath. "And that does not include me."

Billy went cold and still.

"And it's all right," she said smiling sadly at him. "You were right earlier. It wasn't a simple kiss and you're not an option for me. But it isn't because of what you are, but because of what you have left to do. I'd only be an afterthought for you." She pulled her knees back up to her chest and rested her chin on them as she stared into the fire. "And I'm a rather selfish girl, because I'd like to be someone's priority for a change. I've been an afterthought and a pawn my whole life. I'd like to find someone who will put me first. However, at the moment, the only person capable of doing so…is me."

She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes shone in the firelight and his chest ached. "It was a lovely kiss, though. And I won't be forgetting it anytime soon, either."

They stared at one another for several long moments, and while Billy knew that she was no mermaid, he truly wondered if she was a witch. She had plucked every single thought out his head and said them aloud. He should've felt relieved but all he felt was…hollow. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but something crashed in the woods behind them, followed by cursing.

"Christ, did you know that there's some sharp branches out there?" Murphy said as he came back to the fire. "Nearly fell head first into a palmetto." He glanced at Abigail and smiled. "Hair looks lovely, mermaid."

"Thank you," she said smiling back. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going to retire." She got to her feet as did Billy and she looked up at him in surprise, but he found he couldn't say a word. He just stood there, awkward and aching all over. She smiled a little and nodded. "Good night."

"Night, mermaid," Murphy said cheerfully.

"Good night," Billy said, that sick hollow feeling spread through him as he watched her duck into the shelter. She adjusted her palm pallet and then lay down, the shadows created by the flickering flames danced on the soles of her bare feet.

He sat down heavily and stared at the fire, his blade and whetstone forgotten by his side.

She was right.

She was bloody right. Everything she'd said was the truth and it was logical and she'd given voice to every single reservation he had in his head and added a few of her own. The issue should have been resolved. So why the hell did he feel fucking horrible?

"Billy, tell the truth," Murphy said after awhile. "Your girl's not really a mermaid, is she?"

He paused, but then Billy shook his head. "Nah, she's not a mermaid." He glanced at her still form in the shelter. "But I'm beginning to think she's just as rare as one."

* * *

A/N2: Was anyone expecting that? If it helps, I've cast Joe Gilgun as Murphy. He currently plays Cassidy on Preacher and was on Misfits ages ago.


	8. On the Island VII

A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to say that I've been around fandom for some time now (waves cane about) and the people who make up the Black Sails fandom, and especially this little rowboat of a ship; you're all absolutely lovely! You leave the kindest, warmest comments and I'm so happy to have found this little group! You're all wonderful and I'm so, so, SO happy you're here!

I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

Abigail stared up the at ceiling of the shelter. The wood grain ran in straight lines above her head and she counted each knot that interrupted the lines.

Seven knots, in total.

She had no regrets about what she'd said the night before to Billy. She truly didn't. She'd meant every word. She was tired of being thrown hither and thither by fate and the sea and bloody men, be they pirates or her own family. She wanted her desires to come first for a change.

However, despite her certainty, Abigail slept restlessly. Strange dreams that involved caves of gold and warm kisses plagued her until she finally gave up on a proper deep sleep and had taken up glaring at the ceiling. Eventually, she gave that up too, and sat up.

It was still very early morning; a slim line of orange ran along the edge of the horizon. Billy sat where she'd left him the night before and Mr Murphy dozed on the other side of the fire; his snores were loud and Abigail stifled a laugh.

As silently as she could, she emerged from the shelter and caught Billy's eyes.

He nodded. "All right?"

"Of course," she said, as she pushed aside her unsettling dreams and the phantom feel of his mouth moving over hers. "You?"

"Yeah," he said glancing at a still-snoring Murphy. "Don't sleep much as a rule anyways."

"I imagine you're always on the alert on a ship," she said as she made her way to his side where he'd sliced open a coconut. She took it with a smile and started to eat.

"Pretty alert, yeah," he said chuckling. "Thing is, even here I'm listening out for the bells for the shift change and even though they aren't there, I'm awake anyway. Don't have to be a military man for the routines to sink in."

She smiled around a mouthful of coconut and nodded. "I still wake up listening out for the headmistress' call in the morning."

"She called for you?" he asked.

Abigail set her coconut down and sat up straight. Then she briskly clapped her hands and said in her crispest voice, enunciating every word with a singular purpose, "Awaken, young ladies. It is another day on our _heavenly_ Father's green earth and we must _not_ waste a single moment being idle for _that_ is how the Devil will creep in to sully your souls. Wash your hands and faces and dress smartly."

She clapped briskly again and then looked at Billy; who stared at her with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted.

"Fucking hell," he said after a moment. "I think I prefer the bells."

"So do I," she said taking up her coconut. "She wasn't a bad sort, our headmistress, simply stuck in her ways." She paused, her fingers coated in coconut as she looked around the empty beach at the rising sun. "She'd despair at seeing me now, I'd imagine. If she even recognized me, that is."

"Not quite where you intended to end up, is it?" he asked following her gaze to the sea.

"Not entirely," she admitted smiling a little.

"It's like that," he said.

"What is?" she replied.

"The sea," he said nodding towards it. "Sometimes it just…claims a person. It claimed me. I had no plans to ever go to sea. None. In fact, I was raised to the complete opposite, and yet…" He shrugged. "Here I am."

"Here you are," she said softly. "I think I may take your meaning. About the sea."

He turned his head and met her eyes and oh, sweet heavens, this man had no right to have eyes quite that shade of blue.

"Ah," he said clearing his throat and looking away. "Figured I'd get the water this morning and uh, make sure things are tidy around there."

"Oh, yes," she said taking his meaning instantly. Murphy seemed to be a decent enough fellow, but it would probably be best if he didn't know about the gold.

"I'll do that now," he said as he got to his feet. He paused and then handed her the rapier.

She took it from him clumsily and looked at him.

"Just in case," he murmured.

"I think I'm more inclined to do damage to myself than to him," she replied.

"It'll still make him think twice," he said. "Be back soon."

He brushed past her and Abigail stared after him for a moment and hefted the rapier in her hand. Then she glanced at Murphy who watched her with one eye open before he grinned; clearly the man had been awake the entire time.

"Not going to hurt you, mermaid," he said sitting up. "Not in my nature, really. 'Sides, everyone knows that crossing Billy Bones is a death knell."

She frowned and set the rapier down. "Is it?"

"Christ, yes," Murphy said stretching and making his spine crack. "It may have been Silver that killed Dufresne, but Billy was the one who got to Throckmorton first. And the others. Not that you can blame him. Someone had to lead them."

Abigail's head swam. "Lead who?"

"The Brotherhood, oh, hand me a coconut, will you?" he asked nodding at the pile beside her.

"The Brotherhood?" she repeated as she handed him the fruit.

"Someone's got to keep the English on their toes," Murphy said cracking the coconut open with a sharp stone. "Billy's leading most of them. Started all the stories." He winked at her. "They're all shaking in their beds 'cause of him, you know? Our Billy's the stuff of nightmares."

Abigail stared at Murphy and his words sank into her mind.

She'd known this, of course. A man didn't get scars like Billy's without spilling blood. She'd seen him on the warship, she'd seen Flint and Vane and Ned Low and she _knew_ what pirates were. But something clenched in her chest and she swallowed hard to try to clear it.

He had his reasons.

"Yeah, we all do," Murphy said and Abigail startled. She hadn't realized she'd said anything aloud. "But at the end of the day, we still take up the sword and draw blood." The smile he gave her was sad and quite possibly tinged with madness. "We're damned, mermaid. No quarter for any of us when we leave this world."

Abigail stared at him, horror mixed with comprehension swirled in her mind. "I'm sorry," she said, her brow furrowed, as she knew her words were more than useless.

"Eh, well, we pick our paths, don't we?" Murphy said cheerfully. "Might've ended up on a farm back in Ireland and would've hated every minute of it." He leaned towards her and winked. "Not nearly enough sunshine and rum in Ireland."

She tried to smile and got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to…" She gestured to the woods.

Murphy nodded deeply. "Of course, mermaid. See to your island."

She managed an actual smile that time and headed off down the beach towards the well. Murphy's words struck a chord deep within her and she honestly didn't know how to feel.

Warm sand shifted under her feet as she walked and she congratulated herself on how she'd spoken to Billy the night before. He clearly would never be able to put her first and she'd inevitably be hurt in the end. She lifted her chin and walked on, wondering if she'd ever manage to convince the ache in her stomach of how right she was?

In fact, Murphy's words should have only enforced what she knew to be correct. And yet…

 _I still want to learn the shape of his hands and the precise colour of his eyes,_ she thought.

With a silent groan, she forced the foolish thoughts from her head, just in time for him to appear at the treeline as she reached it and gave her a quick nod.

"I've, uh, put our friend in that cave. Figure it's better that Murphy doesn't see it," he said.

"I'd wondered," she said. "Are we truly going to send him back out there? All on his own? In a coracle?"

"Well, I did say it would take someone mad or drunk to attempt the reef," he replied.

"And Mr Murphy does appear to be both," she said glancing behind her at the man who was cracking open another coconut.

"Yeah," Billy said rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you…? Did you need something? Did he do something?"

Abigail looked at him in surprise and something inside her went _oh_. His face was filled with concern. Concern for her. It'd been so long since anyone had been concerned for her sake and her sake alone.

 _Is this why I'm having such a hard time letting go of this?_ she thought. _Am I truly this desperate for connection that I'd willingly align myself with a man who has done the things he's done?_

"Who is Mr Dufrense?" she asked startling herself

Billy froze and Abigail was astonished to see his eyes fill with fear.

"Please don't ask me about that, Abigail," he said, his voice low and hoarse.

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm not blind to the things that you've done, Billy."

"Yes, but there's having knowledge," he said chuckling and rubbing his face. "And then there's _knowing_."

"It was so very bad, then?" she asked, suddenly remembering the dark hole in Lady Hamilton's forehead and her so very blank eyes.

"It was worse," he said flatly. "And it was only the beginning. I don't want you…" He broke off and shook his head. "No, you'll find out anyhow, better it come from me than someone who wasn't actually there. We confronted those on the island who had taken English pardons and Silver did his level best to impart to them how wrong that decision was. A former crewmate took exception. Silver killed him."

Abigail frowned. "I see. However, that doesn't sound as bad-"

"He killed him by stomping repeatedly on his head with his iron leg," Billy said.

Something caught in Abigail's throat at his words. No. Not just at his words, at the way he looked at her. His voice was calm, but his eyes darted all over her face. An image of what must have occurred in that inn flashed behind her eyes and, not wanting to lie, it turned her stomach.

"Oh," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"You were right last night," he said. "I have things to finish and whatever we are or could be or whatever, it has no place in that future. You have no place in my future. And I'll not lie, I'm fucking sorry for that. You…" He winced. "In any case, you were right, but you were also wrong." He stepped in close. "It _is_ because of what I am that means there's no future here, Abigail. I'm a murderer and sooner or later I'll do something that you wouldn't be able to justify to your own morals. And I'll be god damned if I have to be there to see that moment."

His brow furrowed and her eyes burned with unshed tears as he lifted his hand to her face. The pad of his fingers touched her cheek so lightly it felt like the wings of a butterfly and then his hand was gone, clenched tight at his side.

"I'll see you off this island," he said. "And I'll see you safe. I'll make sure that you stay the sort of woman that your headmistress would recognize of and I…"

He broke off again and with one last wincing look, he walked away. Abigail let out a breath and stumbled a little. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her stomach and mouth. She breathed in and out and let the sounds of the island wash over her as she steadied herself.

Then, seeing no other option, she opened her eyes and headed back to the beach.

She rather expected Billy to revert back to how he'd been a few days ago, taciturn and grumpy. However, she found that he seemed to be…lighter somehow. As though his telling her of the lengths he'd gone to, the violence he was more than capable of using, had finally ensured that she'd no longer look to him as a man of any kind of worth. He seemed completely at ease as he and Murphy argued good-naturedly about constructing a raft. His smiles were easy and he laughed and Abigail…

Abigail felt lost.

Everything inside her knew he was right. That she was right. There was no future with him. It would only lead to tears and heartache and a violent end for at least one of them.

But, she was a product of her upbringing, so none of this reflected on her face and she even managed to laugh at several of Murphy's tales as she watched them pull various branches together.

"We'll need a flat bottom to clear the reef," Billy said as he eyed the treeline.

"You going to fell the lot of them?" Murphy asked squinting at him. "I'll make it back to Nassau, Bones. My pride's at stake here." He glanced at Abigail and Billy when they looked at him. "And you need rescuing, of course."

Billy snorted. "It's a fucking miracle you made it here in the first place. I like having a back-up plan."

"Fair point," Murphy said. "But I'm hurt you think so little of my abilities."

"It's not your abilities, Murphy," he said. "It's your reliance on an oversized basket as a ship."

"Do I need to make a bet with you, too?" Murphy asked. "'Cause I feckin' will, Bones."

Abigail giggled and looked away, trying to hide her mirth, but caught Murphy's grin and wink before she did. She glanced at Billy who rolled his eyes at her. After awhile, she left the men to their own devices and decided to spend the rest of the day fishing.

She grabbed her net and merely held it up when Billy looked over at her. He gave her a nod and a smile that set butterflies loose in her stomach and she looked away.

 _Hardly seems fair_ , she thought as she walked towards the water's edge. _He's relaxed and I'm an utter mess. Why can't he be a mess?_

She sighed and took a moment to arrange her skirts so that they didn't trail quite so much in the water, and then she waded in.

The sun beat down on her head as she stared into the shallows and she soon fell into something like a doze as the heat and the lull of the waves calmed her. The motion of a fish around her ankles woke her and she focussed. Soon enough, she caught it and tossed it towards the shore. She shielded her eyes and looked at the two men who were wrangling a smaller tree, and stripping it of its branches.

She trailed her eyes over Billy's shoulders and arms and he looked over at her. She was far enough away so that she couldn't quite make out his eyes, but he cocked his head to the side and she waved. He waved back and she turned back to the water.

Something close to an hour later, there were several small fish on the beach and Abigail realised that she was further out than ever before. The water lapped at the bottom of her thighs and her skirts were drenched.

 _Perhaps I'd better go in,_ she thought. _Surely we'll have enough?_

As she turned she caught sight of something pink. She stared at the brightly coloured sphere as it bobbed lazily atop the water and she frowned. Was it a fish? Her head tilted as she peered at it and she held back the urge to poke it.

Uncertain, she did her best to edge around it, even though the bright colours drew her eyes again and again. A wave surged and sent the pink bubble straight towards her and she winced when it brushed against her bare arm.

"Oh," she said at first feeling nothing but an odd sort of texture as she brushed it away from her. Thin ribbons extended from underneath the bubble and slid against her wrist. She shook them off and trudged back to the shore.

The pain struck her three steps later.

"Oh," she said crying out as she clutched her hand to her chest.

Sharp, stinging _agony_ erupted along her wrist and her vision swam as the pain laced up her arm.

 _The shore_ , she told herself. _Get to the shore, Abigail._

Her breath stuttered in her chest as a strange sort of tightness squeezed and it became a struggle to take a breath. The net slipped from her numb fingers and floated away,

"No," she whimpered, blindly reaching for the net. The pain lanced through her again, and her head thrummed under the heat of the sun.

Her chest hurt with every breath she took and panic settled into her throat when a shallow breath turned into a sob.

"…Abigail?"

She took another step towards the shore, blinking as the light reflected off the water flashed in her eyes.

"Abigail!"

A blur that she believed to be Billy ran towards her as her breathing grew ever more ragged.

"I…" she tried to speak. "Billy?"

The world went terribly blurry after that.

* * *

Billy's heart stopped when he saw Abigail stagger in the surf. It surged when she pitched sideways into the water.

"Abigail!" he shouted running to her, Murphy right behind him.

He pulled her up into his arms before her head submerged. Her eyes blinked up at him blindly as tears streamed over her cheeks as she clutched her arm close.

"What happened?" he asked harshly as he cradled her close and walked to the shore.

"Ah, you fecker!" Murphy shouted behind him. "Jellyfish! Fecker must've stung her. Where'd it get her?"

"Her arm," Billy said heading straight for the shelter. He knelt in the sand beside the water bucket and she looked around wildly and then up at him. He tried to smile. "Easy, easy, you're all right, Abigail. It's all right."

"Billy?" she said and Christ, her voice was a faint echo of what it should have been.

"You were stung by a jellyfish," he said and he ignored the way his hand trembled as he gently reached for her injured arm. "I need to have a look, yeah?" She closed her eyes and shuddered. He frowned as he looked down at her. "Abigail?"

Her chest rose and fell in short, sharp movements. Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she stared up at him, fear etched across her face.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Can you breathe?"

She shook her head jerkily.

"Best get that contraption off her, Bones," Murphy said, worry in his voice. "Remember Old William?"

He did. The man had been stung by a jellyfish one morning and before anyone got to the old man, he'd died from not being able to get a breath due to the pain.

Billy glanced at Abigail's dress and winced. He slipped the small knife from her sash and said, "I'm sorry, but you need to breathe."

She just blinked up at him, those wonderfully brown eyes filled with tears and his resolve solidified. He nodded once.

He looked back at her dress and faltered. He knew what he needed to do, he just wasn't quite sure…where. His pressed against her back and he felt something like ties.

"Right," he muttered shifting Abigail in his arms so she fell forward into his chest. He adjusted at the last minute so that her face came to rest on his shoulder, her lips close to his neck. Her breath was a wheeze beside his ear as he peered down the length of her back. With a careful hand, Billy slipped the knife under the length of ribbon that held the top of her dress together, and then he sliced upwards.

The dress came apart under his hands and he lowered her back to the ground.

"Nicely done, mate," Murphy said. "But there's more. How do they get around in all that?"

Billy gritted his teeth and, not for the first time, wished Murphy miles away. He swiftly pulled the top of Abigail's dress up and, oh, it wasn't attached to the rest of her skirts, so off it came. She cried out when the sleeve rubbed against the sting and Billy cursed and apologized. He frowned as he set the material aside, and then without even thinking about it, he sliced up through the ribbons of her stays.

The moment they slid apart, Abigail breathed in deeply. Her eyes closed and she sobbed a little as she tried to catch her breath.

Billy slid his arm around her and held her up. "Easy, easy, love. Just breathe easy. One at a time, that's it. Go slow."

Once her breathing calmed, she said, "My arm."

"I know," he said finally looking down at the wound and wincing. "Bastard got you, I'm sorry."

It was an angry pink and he could see precisely where the tentacles had wrapped themselves around her pale skin. Ribbons of dark pink circled her wrist and up her forearm. They were already swelling and he cringed, knowing that they'd be painful for several days to come.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. "Murphy, get some seawater."

"Yeah," Murphy said before he headed to the beach, grabbing their makeshift pot from beside the fire.

"I lost my net," Abigail said sadly as her eyes filled with tears.

"You'll make a new one," he said smiling a little as he untucked some of the spare cloths she had tucked into her sash, as he did his level best not to look at the way her thin chemise clung to her body now that her stays gaped open. She had a small patch of freckles dotted along her collarbone and…

 _God damn it, focus, man,_ he shouted at himself and breathed a sigh of relief when Murphy appeared with the saltwater.

Billy carefully submerged her arm into the saltwater and wiped away the sand from the pink patches. Abigail moaned and bit her lip, and eventually, she closed her eyes and turned her head. Billy's frowned deepened and he held the back of his hand to her forehead.

"Shit," he muttered and immediately dipped a cloth into the cool water, which he placed on her skin.

"Fever?" Murphy asked.

"Yeah," Billy said watching as a flush appeared in Abigail's cheeks and sweat beaded at her temples. "Shit."

He picked her up and carried her into the shelter out of the glare of the sun. She stirred in his arms and murmured, "Billy?"

"Yeah, love, you're fine," he said.

"So warm," she said, her eyelids fluttered. "My arm."

"I know," he said. "I know it hurts. Just rest, Abigail. You'll be all right."

Her eyes opened briefly and the smile she gave him was so sweet and small, his heart thudded erratically in his chest. But then her eyes closed and she fell silent.

"Shit," he said again.

"She's such a tiny thing," Murphy said handing the basin of salt water in to Billy. "This'll be harder for her, won't it? The poison'll work over her faster."

"Yeah," Billy said looking up at her face and the white lines of pain beside her eyes. "But she's stronger than she looks."

 _Christ, this is going to be a long night_ , Billy thought as he cradled her in his arms.

And it was.

Billy had seen fighting. He'd seen bloodshed and endured torture and had wrought serious violence with his own hands. But nothing had prepared him for how fucking helpless he felt as he watched Abigail struggle with the pain and fever the sting provoked.

Sweat poured down her temples and she alternated between winces and shivers throughout most of the day and into the night. When darkness fell and the temperature dropped, she settled more.

Billy never left her side.

Murphy cooked the fish she'd caught earlier and then kept to himself by the fire, mending his coracle, while Billy remained in the shelter, Abigail in his arms.

Billy was more than aware that he didn't need to stay. She had a fever, yes, but it would pass (God, he hoped it would pass) and the sting was bad, but he'd seen worse. In truth, he stayed because he couldn't imagine a reason good enough to induce him to leave.

The moon waxed and waned in the night sky. The waves crashed against the shore. And like these incontrovertible truths of nature, if Abigail was injured, Billy would remain by her side.

He did his level best to ignore the implications of this newfound devotion (because, Christ, he had managed to forget every single word he'd said earlier that day because he was a fucking idiot who hadn't meant any of it in the first place) and continued to try to get her to drink as much water as she could.

Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep and when the moon was high in the sky, Billy dozed off as well.

He awoke to a sharp whimper.

Billy blinked in the darkness and looked down at Abigail where she lay beside him. With the base of his palm, he rubbed his eyes and then sat up. She twitched and there it was again, a high-pitched whimper escaped from her tightly-pressed lips; it was as though she tried to be as silent as possible as she held back her fear.

"Hey," he said quietly as he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Easy."

She shook her head and her lips trembled.

"Abigail," he said. "You're dreaming. It's all right. I promise, you're-"

"Don't!" she cried out as she sat up straight.

Her reaction brought her straight into Billy's arms, her body curled against his chest. They both froze for a moment, but when Billy curled an arm around her back, she shuddered and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

For several long seconds, he just held her. Eventually, she calmed enough to say, "I was dreaming, wasn't I?"

"Yeah," he said, turning his head a little, so that his lips brushed against her hair. "You've had a fever most of the day after the sting. Bound to give you bad sleep, I guess."

"It wasn't a new one," she said shaking her head.

"Sorry?"

"The dream," she said. "It was the usual one. He's just...there. Looking at me. Still as a stone. But then..."

She shuddered.

"Then?" he asked, not really wanting the answer, but asking anyway.

"He lunges for me and pulls me into the dark," she whispered. "I can't see anything. But I can hear him breathing and his hands… They hurt." She shifted her injured arm. "This certainly doesn't help matters."

"Let's have a look," he said easing her away from him gently.

The moon shone in a cloudless night sky, and he looked at her arm in the pale light.

"Swelling's gone down some," he said. "How does it feel?"

"Rather horrible, if I'm honest," she said wincing as she turned it. "My head hurts and my chest feels..."

She broke off and looked down at herself. Her stays still hung open on her body, and her chemise was still plainly visible. A flush that Billy suspected had nothing to do with a fever spread across her face as she said, "Oh. You had to… I'd forgotten."

She shifted a little and Billy cleared his throat. "Oh, uh. I have the other part of your dress, um, somewhere. Do you want it? I had to, uh, cut that, too. Sorry."

"It's fine," she said pulling her stays together and clumsily trying to tie the cut ribbons together with one hand. "Breathing is far more important than a dress."

"I agree," he said. "Here, let me."

He slipped his fingers under hers and did his best to tie what he could. The backs of his fingers brushed against her chemise and found that his throat was horribly dry.

"Uh, is that..?" he muttered, dropping his hands.

"It'll do," she said glancing at him before her brow furrowed as she winced.

"Hurting?" he asked and she nodded. "Yeah, have some water. It'll help."

After she drank what she could, she smiled at him. "Thank you."

"Just water," he said.

"Not that," she said laughing a little. "You helped me. Thank you."

"Can't have my only partner on this godforsaken island leaving me on my own," he said with a shrug.

She stared at him and he stared back, suddenly aware of the complete and utter truth in his statement.

"Murphy's here," she whispered.

"Not the same," he said, his own voice gone hoarse. "Not the same at all."

"But," she said. "This is a bad idea? You said so."

"I did," he said nodding. "And it is."

She stared at him and blinked slowly. "I… But you said…"

"I know," he replied.

"Oh," she said and worried her lip. "Did you lie? Earlier? About not wanting to have me see you as you are?"

"No," he said. "I didn't lie. I wouldn't lie. Not to you."

"Oh," she said again. She stared at him and he saw the moon reflected in her eyes, before she swayed a little and blinked. "I think I have thoughts on this, but I'm in too much pain to be clear on the matter."

"That's more than understandable," he said chuckling.

"I should sleep now?" she asked looking an adorable cross between hopeful and confused.

"You should," he said.

"You'll..." She lifted her chin. "You'll stay?"

His answer was to simply tug her close and lean back against the back of the shelter. She curled up against his chest, her injured arm draped over his stomach.

"Sleep, Abigail," he murmured into her hair. "The rest'll sort itself out. One way or another."

"Mmmm," she said nodding.

 _Fuck_ , he thought as she fell back to sleep. _It won't make any bloody difference if I'm with her or not. She's still here. She'll always be here. She's found a way inside me and there's no shifting her._

She tucked herself even closer and he curled his arm around her to bring her closer still and bent his head down.

 _I don't even want to shift her_ , he thought. _You're done for it now, Bones, and you don't even fucking care, do you?_

He breathed in and smiled as wisps of her hair tickled his face.

* * *

The next morning, Abigail was more herself. Her colour was greatly improved even though the sting was still dark pink.

"It may scar," Billy said when he patted it with more saltwater.

"I don't mind," she said staring at it and rotating her arm to see the length of the ribbon etched onto her skin. "I only feel so foolish that it happened at all."

"Don't," he said. "They're silent, cruel little bastards. You can't exactly hear them coming."

"All the same," she said. "I'm sorry for being so much trouble."

"Hey," he said catching her eyes by slipping a finger just beneath her chin. "Remember what I said our first day?"

"About being smarter than the men who punched each other?" she asked smiling slightly.

"Yeah," he said. "Still stands, sweetheart."

Her smile broadened as did a pink flush that spread from her cheeks down her throat to her… Billy coughed and looked away, only to spot Murphy headed their way.

"Good morning, Mr Murphy," Abigail said.

"Morning, mermaid," he said. "You're looking much better. Pink's come back to your cheeks, hasn't it, Billy?"

He glared up at Murphy who just winked at him.

"How's the arm?" Murphy asked.

"Still painful, but I'll manage," Abigail said.

"Course you will," Murphy said grinning. "Going to see me off?"

"You're leaving?" she asked, her face falling slightly.

"Better had," he said looking up at the sky. "On the edge of stormy season as it is. Never know when a squall will pick up. 'Sides, that one's men are going to set Nassau ablaze without him to manage them."

"And you're owed a fair amount of drink by that Bailey, aren't you?" she added. "The man who insulted your honour."

Billy snorted, but Murphy tapped his nose as he said. "Too right, mermaid. You understand matters of pride and honour."

"I'm beginning to," she said smiling.

"Bones, a word before I cast off," Murphy said jerking his head towards the shoreline.

"All right?" Billy asked Abigail.

"As long as jellyfish haven't managed to learn how to walk on land in the last few days," she said. "I'm fine."

He smiled and tugged a little at her hair before he got up to talk to Murphy.

"What do you want me to tell your crew?" Murphy asked, looking half serious for once.

"That if they want to make sure the centre fucking holds while their captains try to bring the world crashing all around their heads, they'll send someone out here to pick me the fuck up," Billy said shrugging. "Or if that doesn't work, tell them you met a real, live mermaid."

"Oh, I was going to tell them that anyway," Murphy said grinning. "Think they'll believe me?"

"About the mermaid?"

"About you."

Billy shrugged. "Find Ben Gunn and tell him that it's his turn to fucking pay me back for getting him out of that cage and off that island. He'll listen. And if he doesn't, try Jacob Garrett. Then try Silver."

Murphy shuddered. "Rather not, if it's all the same. I'll make them listen, Bones. Don't you worry."

Murphy grinned again at him and Billy managed one in return, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "Yeah, fuck it. Let's get you underway."

Abigail emerged from the shelter, still clad in her messily tied together stays over her chemise and her skirts. Her arm is an angry red and she held it close to her body as she watched Billy help Murphy get his coracle into the shallows.

"Right," Billy said. "You've got water, some food, a paddle, and a hell of a lot of crazy. Need anything else?"

"Kiss for luck?" he suggested winking at Abigail.

Billy rolled his eyes, but Abigail came closer and smiled at Murphy.

"How could I possibly deny our rescuer an additional portion of luck?" Abigail said as she leant up and pressed a quick kiss to Murphy's cheek.

Billy wasn't sure who looked more taken aback, Murphy or himself. Credit to the other man, though, he recovered quicker than Billy did.

"Mermaid, it will be my absolute pleasure to ensure the rescue of your fair self," Murphy said as he pressed his hand over his heart.

"Just be careful," Abigail said solemnly.

Billy held back a scoff. The man was about to take on the ocean in a coracle. _Again._ 'Careful' didn't really come into the matter. But Murphy simply nodded and slapped Billy's arm.

"Keep those jellyfish out of her way, mate," he said. "And see you soon! I'll buy you a drink!"

"No, you won't," Billy muttered, but he still helped push the coracle with Murphy in it, out into the shallows and then he stepped back to stand beside Abigail.

Billy kept his face completely blank as they watched Murphy spin and float in circles for several long minutes before the man finally got to paddling.

"Oh, dear," Abigail said under her breath.

"Yeah," Billy said.

They fell silent again as Murphy figured out 'forward' and Abigail moved closer to Billy.

"How long?" she asked as they watched Murphy approach the reef.

"Before he hits the reef?" Billy asked. "Any moment now."

"I actually meant Nassau," Abigail said before she grabbed Billy's hand as Murphy and his coracle crested high on a wave. "Oh, I don't know that I can watch this."

"I'll tell you when it's over," Billy said as he tightened his own grip around her hand.

"No," she said shaking her head. "No, I'll watch."

They both held their breath and watched Murphy paddle furiously. The waves swept out and then surged up. Murphy surged up with them.

And cleared the reef.

A loud shout drifted back to them on the wind and Abigail laughed. "Oh, heavens," she said pressing her free hand to her chest. "That was dreadful."

"He's a fucking idiot," Billy said scrubbing a hand over his face.

They stood watching Murphy as he slowly disappeared from view, a mere dot on the horizon.

"Five or six days," Billy said at last.

"Pardon?"

"That's how long it should take him to reach Nassau," he said.

"How long after that?"

"You mean if he gets anyone to listen to him and they decide to rescue us?" Billy said. "A week, maybe."

"And how long before we give up hope and have to rescue ourselves?" she asked, her grip firm on his hand.

He paused and looked down at her. "Abigail."

"Billy," she said squeezing his hand. "We have lives to get back to. How long before we need to take matters into our own hands?"

He stared down at the woman he was fairly certain he was more than halfway in love with and just took her in. Every bedraggled, lovely inch of her, from her pale, bare feet, to the ribbon of angry pink that wound around her wrist, to her clear, intelligent eyes.

"Fourteen days," he said. "Then we take our fate back into our own hands."


	9. On the Island VIII

A/N: Right, so I love you all, so please don't hate me for how this chapter ends! I promise that the next chapter will be posted within the week! Thank you so, so, so much for your lovely, wonderful comments and kudo's!

* * *

Abigail rested for two days, letting her jellyfish sting heal and the pain ease off. Oddly enough, Billy seemed to do a fair amount of relaxing as well. He kept the fire going, piled high with damp wood that created a thicker smoke that could (hopefully) be seen from afar, and he caught their dinner, but apart from idly drawing some ideas for a potential boat, he stuck close to the shelter.

Abigail didn't mind, but the morning of the third day, she got up, walked out of the shelter, and stared at him, her hands on her hips. He just grinned a little.

"Tired of resting?" he asked.

"More than," she said. "Please give me something to do."

He laughed and held up his hands. "All right, all right. Let me think."

"In the meantime, I'll fetch the water," she said going over to the bucket. She wrapped a bit of linen around her palm and lifted the bucket, aware that he watched her closely. She smiled at him and just called out, "I'm fine. Stop worrying. And come up with something for me to do!"

She walked away to the sound of him chuckling and enjoyed the walk to the rainwater. She filled the bucket and headed back to the beach. The waves were crashing loudly onto the beach and she kept an eye on the blue-green water, noticing the reef seemed to stir the waves more than usual.

How on earth were they going to cross that? Murphy in a small basket was one thing, two people in a boat was something else.

"Are you truly thinking of building a ship?" she asked when she reached the shelter, setting the bucket down with relief.

"It's an idea," he said shrugging and digging in the sand a little. Abigail saw a few drawings of possible boats and she waited for him to explain. "The main problem is that my cutlass isn't exactly made to chop down multiple trees."

"I had wondered about that," she said sitting down and opened up a coconut to nibble on.

"But it did occur to me that we haven't explored the other side of the island," he said.

"We haven't," she said brightening. "I assumed that was because the shipping lane was on this side."

"It is," he said. "But that doesn't mean there isn't anything there." He eyed her and smirked as she fidgeted. "Wanting your own private expedition, Miss Ashe?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I will, naturally, bow to your lead in the matter."

"Very kind," he said. "Eat your breakfast, get some water, and we'll go."

"Now?"

"Did you have other plans?" he asked, before his brow furrowed. "Is your arm hurting?"

He moved towards her and picked up her arm, looking at the still pink lines. She curled her fingers around his hand and squeezed.

"It's fine," she said. "There's some lingering pain, but it's more than manageable. I'm all right."

He looked at her and nodded. "Right then. Eat up."

She devoured her coconut, made sure her little flask had plenty of water, and retied her stays over her chemise. She'd considered putting her shirt back on, but decided that it was too hot and her stays and chemise provided sufficient cover. Her sense of modesty had rather fallen to the wayside once it occurred to her that Billy had sliced right through her dress and stays without hesitation. He'd already seen her sweating and pale with fever, he could put up with her in her chemise. It covered more than enough of her skin.

 _Besides,_ she thought, _He's hardly going to ravish me in the woods. He's already admitted that he won't allow whatever this is to go any further. And I highly doubt I'm all that attractive at present. I'm certain my nose is red and my freckles have sprung up._

She folded her shirt and left it in the shelter, then walked to where Billy waited at the treeline.

"Ready and able, sir," she said smiling.

He snickered and said, "If my men were only half as diligent as you; no fleet in the world could stop us."

"I've always thought women should be allowed to fight," she said as they walked. "We're just as bloodthirsty as men and our attention spans are much greater."

"Oh?" he asked as they approached the well and skirted around the side. "How do you figure?"

"Have you ever had to sit completely still for hours at a time whilst embroidering?" she asked.

"Can't say that I have."

"Try it," she said. "And then tell me that women don't have a strong constitution."

He chuckled. "Not a chance. I'm more than aware that I'd concede within the first quarter of an hour."

"I'm very glad to hear you admit it," she replied cheerfully, nimby stepping over a fallen palm tree.

The island was indeed very narrow as she'd thought when they first washed up on the beach. Just as the sounds of the waves behind them disappeared, she heard the waves crashing somewhere ahead of them. The terrain grew even sandier and the trees thinned out leaving palmettoes and other small shrubs in their path.

They reached the other side far quicker than Abigail expected and they stopped at the edge of a substantial drop to the beach below. Billy eyed the distance and then jumped down, landing heavily in the sand below, the waves tumbled onto the shore not too far away.

He turned back to Abigail and held up his hands. "I've got you."

She frowned, eyeing the distance down and how to precisely get into his arms. Eventually, she sat down on the ledge and leaned down, her arms outstretched.

Billy's hands curled around her ribcage and he easily lifted her down the rest of the way. He held her suspended in the air for a brief, dizzying moment before her feet landed on the sand and her eyes held his the entire time. His hands flexed as they slid down to her hips, steadying her on the uneven sand. Her own hands slipped from his shoulders to rest on his chest, his heartbeat thudded steadily under her palm.

They stepped away from the other at the same time, their gaze dropping to the ground and Abigail smoothed her hands over the front of her skirts.

"It seems far sandier on this side," she commented, internally rolling her eyes at how ridiculous she sounded.

"It's shallower between here and the other islands that way," he said pointing out to sea. "Too many sandbars make this impossible to sail."

Abigail looked out over the terribly blue water and let herself admire the view. Yes, she was stranded, but heavens, it was incredibly beautiful. She breathed in the fresh salty air and lifted her face into a light breeze.

She turned to ask Billy what he'd like her to do, but found him already staring at her, his expression hard to read.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, just… You look better. Today. Than you did." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You know, from when you were ill from the sting the other day. You, ah, you just look better, that's all."

With a grimace, he turned away and headed towards the waterline, scrubbing the back of his neck as he walked. Abigail held back a laugh at whatever that had been, and followed him.

"What are you hoping to find?" she asked looking up and down the small beach.

"A ship in perfect working order?" he said glancing at her; when she laughed, he grinned. "I wasn't hoping for anything in particular; but our Spanish friends got here somehow and I wondered if there was something back here that we could use."

Sadly, apart from some driftwood, there wasn't much in the way of anything useful. They walked in silence along the surf and Abigail pointed.

"Is that netting?" she asked and set off quickly towards it before Billy could answer.

It was. A larger amount than she'd had before and she tugged at where it was submerged in the sand and still tied to a large length of rope. Billy helped and pulled on the rope.

"This isn't too bad," he said. "Cut your net off the rope and we'll take them both back with us."

"Looks like we'll be having fish for supper tonight," she said happily.

He chuckled and walked down the beach to inspect some other bits of driftwood, while Abigail pulled the netting out of the way of the water and set her knife to the edges where it knotted along the rope.

She tried to cut the net with her small knife but the salt-encrusted hardened rope gave her difficulty. Teeth bared, she kept at it.

"Need to sharpen that later," Billy said behind her. "Try this."

She looked up and blinked at him handing her his cutlass. Awkwardly, she gripped it with two hands and struggled to find a decent place to saw at the netting. After some time, she cut through it and stumbled back when the tension gave.

Billy chuckled.

"Oh, hush," she said handing his cutlass back to him. "I managed, didn't I?"

"You did indeed," he said sliding the cutlass back into his belt. He eyed her and then looked out to sea as he sighed. "Are you truly not going back? To England? You really mean to carry on all by yourself?"

Abigail frowned. "Yes, I do. I've told you, there's no going back for me. There's nothing for me to go back to. Well, at least nothing I want to go back to." She looked out at the sea. "My future lies in going forward. Whether that means settling in Nassau or someplace else. I'm not going back."

"Yeah," he said nodding. "That's what I thought."

"Why do you ask?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm asking because," he started slowly, "if you really are heading into the unknown, I'm going to make damn well sure that you can defend yourself." He patted his cutlass. "Starting with this."

Her breath caught in her throat. "You mean that? You'll teach me?"

"Yeah," he said looking at her. "I'm not about to let you swan off without being able to make sure no one lays a hand on you without your permission."

"You." She swallowed back something very much like happiness. "You believe that I can do it? Survive on my own?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah. Fuck, Abigail, if it weren't for other people being complete bastards, I wouldn't have a single worry about you. You've already shown that you're capable and smart and willing to work hard. Yeah, I think you can do whatever the hell you want to do. I-"

Billy broke off because she'd launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. She stood on her tiptoes as she awkwardly wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Thank you," she breathed, pressing her face against his neck. "No one's ever believed in me before."

He'd frozen the moment she hugged him and she waited for him to do something minor, like pat her head or back. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and embraced her back. Her toes left the ground and she closed her eyes as she revelled in the feel of him so strong and close.

"You can do anything," he murmured next to her ear. "I just want you safe, Abigail. That's all."

"Thank you," she said again, her hand coming up to cup the back of his head, his hair bristly against her palm, but warmed by the sun.

He turned his face fully into her, and his mouth brushed over the skin between her throat and her shoulder and she shivered. He froze again.

Slowly, he set her down, his hands slid to her hips and she looked up at him. His eyes had darkened and an ache settled into her abdomen and oh, she _wanted_ …

A strong wave broke over their feet and Abigail laughed a little as she lost her footing. Billy grinned as he steadied her.

"All right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said nodding. "When will you start teaching me?"

"Any plans for the afternoon?" he asked with a shrug.

"Not a one," she replied.

* * *

 _What the fuck are you doing?_ he thought as they walked back to the other side of the island. He carried the rope and some bits of flat wood he'd found and Abigail carried her netting. She walked along beside him, her bare feet stepping easily over the sand and palm fronds, and a smile on her face. A smile that hadn't left her face since he told her that he believed in her and Jesus Christ, what was he doing?

Billy swallowed hard and ignored his inner voices and just focussed on what he'd teach her first.

"We need to sharpen that little knife of yours," he said as they emerged from the tree cover. "I'm going to show you how to use it well."

"Against your cutlass?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Nah, against a man," he said.

Her step faltered. "What do you… Oh. Oh, I see."

"I'm teaching you to win, Abigail," he said, not looking at her. "I'll teach you how to use the cutlass, too, but first you're going to learn how to do enough damage to get away. Is that all right?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, it's all right."

He gritted his teeth and once more, asked himself what the fuck he was doing?

 _You are going to regret this, my lad,_ he thought.

An hour later, he proved himself completely right and regretted every decision he'd ever made in his life that led him to the very moment in which he found himself flat on his back, Abigail Ashe sprawled over him, her knife pressed close to his throat.

He needed to clarify one point, he thought. A _grinning_ Abigail Ashe sprawled over him, her knife pressed close to his throat.

Like with everything, Abigail had taken to fighting with dedication and bright, open eyes. She'd hesitated the first few times he'd shown her how to jab her knife into certain soft spots on a man's body, but that hesitation fled quickly.

"The thigh, the throat, and the eyes," he'd said initially. "If you can manage a good thrust into any of those places you can usually get away."

"Thigh, throat, and eyes, right," she said nodding.

"But what is it you should focus on in the first instance?" he asked.

"Running away?" she said, squinting a little.

"Yes, good girl. Now, I'm going to come at you from behind," he said. "Do you best to jab me."

"With my knife?" she asked, her eyes wide.

He chuckled. "Not yet. Let's just get you punching those spots first, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said bouncing a bit on her feet. "I'm ready."

He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her and she struck at his thighs with her small fists. Then his throat, then his eyes. They practiced for an hour, until they paused for water and a few coconuts.

Then he'd told her to pick up her knife.

It took her a few tries to really grasp it the right way and she still hesitated before she moved, but after some practice, she jabbed quickly and accurately.

"Now," he said as he stood tall, his hands loose at his sides. "Come at me."

She eyed him, her fingers tightened on her knife, and she darted towards him…and took him by complete surprise. She lunged at his right side and when he shifted to dodge her blow, it was too late to realise that she'd only feinted to his right and her knife was headed straight for his thigh. Her eyes widened when she realised that she was about to stab him for real, and he grabbed her arm and tugged. Their feet tangled together and Billy fell backwards, pulling Abigail down with him as he went.

"Oomph." The breath went out of him as he landed and Abigail squeaked as she fell atop him. He looked up into her face and she looked down and then grinned. That's when he noticed that she'd pulled her wrist out of his grip and her knife was placed against his throat.

"I just want to remind you," she said breathlessly, "that you told me to come at you."

He grinned up at her and said, "I did, didn't I? Well done, Miss Ashe."

Her laugh was clear and bright and he joined in, helpless not to. He soon discovered that his hands rested on her hips and her weight on him was pleasant and…fuck.

With a cough, he squeezed her hips and sat up, gently dislodging her. Her smile didn't fade as she asked, "Shall I try again?"

"Oh, no," he said getting to her feet and offering her a hand up. "You're ruthless and I don't fancy a knife in my gut today."

Her hand slipped easily into his and he pulled her to her feet with a light tug. "In that case," she said. "I'll catch dinner."

But even as she declared her intentions, she yawned. Widely. And then looked so wonderfully embarrassed, Billy couldn't help but laugh.

"The hell you will," he said. "For two reasons. You're exhausted and you haven't fashioned your net, yet."

She blushed and laughed. "Excellent points; both of them."

"Go," he said nudging her towards the shelter. "I'll manage."

"Very well," she said as she slipped her knife into her sash and walked towards the fire and the pile of netting.

Billy watched her go and for a moment, his expression turned pained. Self-control was something he'd always been a true master over. He could endure torture, pain, and back-breaking work. So, how was it that a small, slip of a woman was able to move him towards a breaking point so swiftly?

 _It's her kindness, lad,_ Gates' voice said in his head. _She's a kind, gentle soul and we've no experience with that sort, am I right?_

Billy sighed and rubbed the back of his head. No, he didn't have much experience with kindness and her smiles and lovely voice stuck in his chest and try as he might, he couldn't seem to shift them. He'd just about come to accept his decision that he'd protect her as long as he could and not ask for anything in return, no matter how much he wanted to. But then she had to hug him and appreciate him and damn it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

He wasn't for the likes of her. He'd never been and he never would be and he had to cling to that knowledge with both hands otherwise, he'd kiss her and never stop.

He opened his eyes and blinked at the bright sun. Christ, it was bloody hot.

"Fuck it," he muttered and sat down on the beach to take his boots off. His sweat-soaked, filthy shirt was next and he wrapped it about his head to provide some shade. He rolled up his trousers and then waded into the water, taking a moment or two to splash the water on his arms and chest. He figured he should probably remain covered in Abigail's presence. It's what a gentleman would do, after all. But he was no fucking gentleman and considering she'd begun to go around with only her stays and that thin bit of linen underneath, well… It wasn't as though there was anyone around to comment on either of them.

He pulled his cutlass free of his belt and settled into catching dinner.

Sometime later, Billy sat by the fire as Abigail handed him some of the crabs he'd caught, their shells nice and hot. She settled down near him and tucked into her own supper as he did.

She hummed as she ate. "I can admit that I'm slightly tired of eating the same thing, day after day," she admitted. "But I can't deny that it does taste lovely after a long day."

"Anything's better than hard tack," he said around a mouthful of crab.

She wrinkled her nose. "Or maggoty bread."

"Where the hell'd you have to eat that?" he asked, making a face.

"In the Nassau fort," she said. "When Vane held me prisoner."

Billy frowned. "Oh."

"It was still an improvement on my previous accommodations," she said plucking bits of crabmeat from the shell. "And I only ever saw him, not his crew, until Miss Guthrie came for me."

"Still," Billy said. "Shouldn't've happened at all."

"Well, I can certainly agree with that sentiment," she said wryly.

They fell back into silence as they ate and when they were done, Billy tossed the shells into the fire and took up his evening ritual of sharpening his weapons. Abigail handed her little knife over to him without a word, then settled down to sort out a new fishing net for herself.

Several long, comfortable moments passed in silence before Abigail said, "You said something the other day that I didn't quite understand."

"Yeah?" Billy said looking down the length of his cutlass, then applying it to the whetstone.

"About Mr Silver?" she asked. "And his leg? You said something about his iron leg? What did you mean?"

Billy's stomach roiled and he held himself completely still; and then he said, "When Vane boarded the warship in Charles Town, he left some of his men onboard while he took your diary into the square to retrieve Flint." Billy let out a breath. "Vane's men decided that they'd rather find the Urca gold themselves and not wait for Vane to return. They took Silver's leg when he refused to tell them anything."

"Oh," she said softly and he felt her eyes on him. "Oh, how horrible. I'm so sorry. Were you-?"

"Nearby?" he said. "Yeah. Heard the whole fucking thing but couldn't get there before they took his leg." He picked up his cutlass and applied it to the whetstone with force. "Fucking cowards. Vane wouldn't have done things that way. No point to it."

"He took Ned Low's head," she said quietly.

Billy paused, but didn't really have a reply to that. Vane took Low's head for Eleanor Guthrie and well…that was another kind of matter altogether. It disturbed him greatly that he was beginning to understand the other man's motivations. Vane'd only fed Abigail badly and Billy wished the man was alive if only to punch him. As it was, part of him thought simply beheading Ned Low was too easy a punishment for what he'd done to Abigail.

"How is Mr Silver now?" she asked. "I didn't speak to him very much when I was with your crew. He seemed very…clever. Always watching."

Billy snorted. "That's him. Clever and always watching. He and Flint are thick as thieves these days and if they can manage to keep the course, we may just win this fucking thing."

"It sounds as though you don't trust them," she said and he glanced at her, noticing that she'd put her net aside and was focussed on him.

"I don't," he admitted. "I trust Silver to look out for the crew as long as it lies with his own interests and I trust Flint to follow his path of revenge; which as long as it follows my path, is an asset. But I think he'd drop the lot of us if it meant he could win the war waging in his head."

She was silent and when he looked at her again, her gaze was fixed on the fire. Eventually she said, "England has a great deal to answer for, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he said swiping the whetstone along the cutlass. "A very great deal, indeed."

"I hope you find the victory you deserve," she said looking back at him. "No one should have to suffer as you and so many others have."

He met her eyes and Christ, he wanted to touch her. Just…lay a hand on her hair, her cheek, feel her heartbeat under his palm.

Instead, he remained silent and held her gaze, until she smiled a little.

"I think I'll turn in," she said getting to her feet. "Will you instruct me with the cutlass tomorrow?"

"Depends," he said.

"Upon?"

"How much you remember from today," he said grinning.

She lifted her chin. "Challenge accepted, Mr Bones."

With a sharp turn, she left the fireside and went into the shelter.

Billy remained by the fire and sharpened the weapons to perfection as the sun went down. Then he lay in the dark, and listened to the sound of the waves as they crashed on the shore as he contemplated the woman asleep a few feet away.

* * *

"Oomph!" Abigail landed on her back and Billy peered down at her.

"All right?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

"Yes," she said waving her hand. "That was my fault. I lunged forward too far."

"You did," he said holding out a hand. "But you got away. Sort of."

She bounced a little when he pulled her up. "Sort of. What's next?"

They'd been practicing fighting for the last two days, and just when Billy thought he'd stopped being surprised by her enthusiasm to learn, she'd smile that smile at him and he'd be taken aback all over again.

"Oh, no," he said holding his hands up. "Dinner. I'm not about to start duelling with you on an empty stomach."

"Very well," she said handing his cutlass back to him. "I did promise fish for supper, after all."

"Still can't believe you manage to catch anything with that thing," he said nodding at her net. "Looks like it's about to fall apart."

She frowned at him and then down at her net. "What do you mean? It works perfectly well."

"Yeah, but using a sword's quicker," he said.

"Not always," she retorted. "As I recall, it took you some time yesterday to catch even four crabs. Whereas I always manage to catch some fish." She faced him. "In fact, I'd wager that I could catch more than you."

"Oh, you would, would you?" he asked coming to stand in front of her, and her head tipped back to hold his gaze. "I think I'll take your wager, Miss Ashe. My sword versus your net. Whoever catches the most for supper wins."

"Is there a time limit?" she asked, already moving to knot her skirts together so that her legs were free of fabric and he swallowed hard at the sight of her tiny ankles.

"Half an hour," he said. "When the shadows hit that point there."

He pointed at the shadows of the nearest tree and Abigail nodded. "I accept your terms, Mr Bones. May the best fisherman win."

She held out her hand and Billy grinned as he shook it.

Half an hour later, Billy stared down at the sizeable pile of tiny fish at Abigail's feet. He looked between her pile and his respectable, he thought, pile of ten crabs. While the crabs were decent-sized, Abigail certainly had caught far more fish than he had; there had to be upwards of twenty fish wriggling on the sand.

"I believe I've won," she said mildly.

He stared at the fish and then at her. "What the fuck are those?"

"Fish," she stated.

"They're too small to eat!"

She cocked her head to the side. "Now, the stipulations of our wager said nothing about the food needing to be edible. Only that the person who caught the most won." She glanced at his pile of crabs and then at him. "I clearly caught the most."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and then she had the audacity to smile and laugh.

"You know, you're the pirate here, I imagined you to be better versed in manufacturing outcomes to your advantage," she said.

"'Manufacturing outcomes'?" he repeated. "Are you saying that pirates cheat?"

"Are you saying that you always play by the rules?" she countered, and God help him, he was about to do something monumentally stupid.

He blinked and stepped towards her. "Abigail."

"Yes?"

"Remember what I told you to do when faced with an opponent who may mean you harm?" he asked.

"Run away?"

He arched an eyebrow at her.

With a blinding smile, she turned on her delicate little heels and ran. He gave her a moment's head start, and then with a sharp laugh, he took after her. He had to give her credit, she was fast, dashing this way and that across the sand. Billy was glad he'd left his boots off as his bare feet gave him a bit more traction as he chased after. Her long braid streamed after her as she laughed and dodged his outstretched arms. However, the fact remained that he was bigger and had more reach and soon enough, he closed in on her. He wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her close, her back to his chest, her feet off the ground. She shrieked and laughed as her legs kicked in the air.

"Concede?" he asked laughing as he spun her.

"Never!" she shouted batting at his arm around her waist.

He tsk'ed and swept his other arm under her legs, and walked towards the surf, with her secure in his arms. She stilled and then wriggled.

"You wouldn't dare!" she said, still laughing, as her hands clutched at his shirt. "Billy!"

"Say you're sorry and I'll put you down," he said walking into the surf. She kicked her legs as a wave broke over them both and Billy carried on until the water swirled around his thighs. He looked down at her and gauged her reaction. Had he taken things too far? Was she all right? But she just lifted that little chin of hers, arched her eyebrows at him, and remained silent, essentially daring him to carry out his threat.

"Say you're sorry," he said.

She pressed her lips together, not hiding her smile at all. He tossed her up in the air a little and caught her before she fell into the water.

Shrieking and laughing, she said, "No! No, no, all right!"

He cradled her close and grinned down at her. "Let's hear it, then."

She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry…that's you're such an incredibly poor loser."

His jaw dropped in the face of her unrepentant grin.

"Right," he said. "You asked for it."

With a smooth flex of his arms, he tossed Abigail into the water. He had a moment of panic directly after he did so when she flailed in the water, but she soon found her feet and glared at him, her skirts and hair wet. He couldn't help it, and he laughed. He laughed like he hadn't laughed in years. But his laugh was rudely cut off when a splash of seawater caught him in the face.

He stared at her where she was poised to send another wave his way. He cocked his head to the side, nodded…and then they were off.

Billy had the advantage of producing larger waves, but Abigail held her own and soon they were practically doubled over, laughing and utterly drenched. Billy's heart pounded with a lightness he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. It was play. He was playing. When had he last let go of his worries and doubts and just…played? Abigail's laughter was bright and genuine as she ducked in and out of his reach in the surf. Her smile spread across her face and her eyes sparkled like sunlight reflecting off the water and he had to touch her.

He reached out and caught her up in his arms, both of them still laughing. She grabbed onto his shoulders as he pulled her close to his chest, holding her up so that just her legs were submerged in the surf. Her face hovered just above his and she smiled down at him; he tightened his hold on her, his arm just below the curve of her bottom.

"Concede, Miss Ashe?" he asked panting.

"Never, Mr Bones," she replied, just as breathless.

He chuckled, and his gaze was arrested by a drop of seawater that trailed along the side of her face, over the curve of her cheek, and then down her throat. Without thought, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the droplet, his tongue darted out to taste the saltwater on her skin.

"Oh," she said and her skin vibrated under his tongue.

Startled into lucidity, he jerked his head back and looked at her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes glazed as she stared down at him.

"Abigail," he said hoarsely. "I'm… We can't-"

His words were stopped by her mouth on his and God help him, he didn't hesitate to kiss her back, deeply and thoroughly. Her lips parted at the touch of his tongue and he moaned as she tentatively slid her tongue along his. He tightened his hold on her hips and with his other hand, he caressed the side of her face, the length of her heavy braid, the softness of her throat.

He plundered her mouth with an abandon that she met with a fierceness of her own. His hand smoothed over her back and sides, up to cup her breast. Her stays had come undone during their play and when he glanced down, he could glimpse a pale pink nipple through her wet chemise. His thumb lightly brushed over it.

"Oh," she said, tearing her mouth from his as her head titled back. "Oh, please?"

"Yes," he said against her throat as he licked at her pulse and his thumb brushed over her nipple again and again. Her hands held his head and her nails scratched wonderfully against his scalp.

A tall wave broke over them both and Billy stumbled. He lifted his head and stilled his hand on her breast.

"Christ," he said. "Abigail, this is madness. We can't—"

"What would you do?" she asked as she cupped his face, her thumbs resting on his cheekbones.

"What?" he asked, dazed by her sudden question.

"If you were…free to care for me," she said, her eyes wide and her voice firm. "If you could do anything you wanted to. If the war was over and you were a free man; what would you do? With me?"

He stared at her, the taste of her mouth and her skin still fresh on his tongue, and he entertained the idea of being completely free to have her. To have her to talk to, to work with, to care for. To have her by his side and in his bed.

With a groan that came out like a growl, he swept her up, once again, into his arms and as he carried her to the shore, he pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth that she eagerly returned, before he said, "What would I do if I was free to care for you? I'll show you what I'd fucking do."

 _to be continued….(soon!)_


	10. On the Island IX

A/N: I just have to say that you are all amazing and every time I see a new comment or kudo, my heart soars. You're the loveliest bunch of people and I'm so, so, SO happy that you've made it this far. This chapter is where we earn the 'Mature' rating, so hang on to your knickers!

* * *

Billy's long stride ate up the distance from the surf to the shelter quickly, so Abigail just held on. Literally. Her hands grasped at his soaked shirt and she curled her legs over his arm, tucking her head so that her forehead rested against his chin. His grip on her tightened and dear heavens, he smelled wild. Like weather, something untameable and fierce. Similar feelings rose inside her and she darted her tongue out to lick at the droplets of seawater on his chin,

"Fuck," he muttered and smiling, she did it again. She ran her tongue along his jaw, up to his earlobe, where she marvelled at how soft it felt against her lips.

"Abigail," he groaned in warning.

She giggled and she hardly knew who she was in that moment, only that she was on the verge of something incredible. Something visceral. Something _real_.

He carried her past the fire, straight into the shelter, where he knelt down and resumed kissing her. Her arms wound around his neck as his framed her ribcage. Their tongues met and while Abigail started off with tentative strokes, she felt a hunger build and build in a place never before explored and soon she returned his deep kisses with desperate ones of her own. She was so absorbed in exploring every crevice of his mouth, it took her a moment to realise that his hand once again cupped her breast.

But when his thumb found her nipple, she cried out into his mouth.

He pulled back, and asked, breathlessly, "Sorry! I didn't-"

"Don't stop," she said as she reached for his hand. "It's all right, please don't stop."

"Abigail," he breathed and then he looked down.

She blinked down as well and watched as his fingers plucked at the torn ties of her stays. It fell open, revealing her wet chemise that clung to her. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard and hardly had a moment to think before he bent his head and took one fabric-covered nipple into his mouth.

Heat filled her even as she shivered from the pure, rich sensations he stirred with every suckle and lick. She'd never taken much notice of her body before. She kept herself clean, tidy and presentable, and dressed as was expected, but now… It had never occurred to her that the simplest touches could produce such pleasure. When he tugged at her chemise and bared her chest to suckle with nothing between his lovely mouth and her flesh, she lost her breath. Her back arched and her hands held Billy to her breast.

"So beautiful," he said around her wet, hardened nipples. "So god damn beautiful. I want to see all of you, sweetheart."

"Yes," she said as her hands fumbled under his as they both tried to untie her sash. "Wait."

She moved off his lap and untied her sash, then her skirt and finally her petticoat, and then she shoved the lot off.

Billy stared at her where she knelt, completely naked to his gaze, beside him.

With a slightly trembling hand, he reached out and with the tips of his fingers, he traced a wandering line down her throat, around the curve of her breast, the dip in her waist, over the flare of her hip, and finally, along the crease between her stomach and thighs. She sighed and shivered, even as she giggled softly. He looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"Tickles," she whispered and before she lost her courage, she asked, "Now you?"

With one hand, he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it up and off and oh, all that glorious skin was revealed. Her hand traced the lines of his muscles and his collarbone before she could think.

"Fuck," he muttered and then she was in his arms again, his mouth hard on hers and oh, she felt every inch of him. His chest muscles bunched and flexed against her skin as he moved his hands over her hips and down to her bottom. Then one hand traced lightly over her thigh and dipped in between her legs.

She tensed and he gentled his kiss. "It's all right, it's all right," he murmured. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she whispered shaking her head. "No, don't stop."

His fingers danced along where she felt herself grow hot and slick and eventually, she discovered that she chased after his touch with the gentle rocking of her hips.

When his fingers finally delved inside her, she was more than ready for it.

"Oh," she said, as her head fell back and her eyes stared up, unseeing, at the ceiling of the shelter. "That's… Billy, that's…"

"Yeah," he said ducking his head to mouth at her throat. "I know, love. You feel fucking amazing, Abigail."

She didn't reply as her eyes closed and she gave herself over to the sharp twinges of pleasure that crept along her insides and throbbed in time to his touch. On a particularly wonderfully wicked shock of sensation, she lowered her head to look at Billy. He stared back at her, his blue eyes intense and determined as he pleasured her.

"You too," she said gasping, and she grasped his wrist where it danced along her flesh. "I want you to feel this, too. How do-"

He looked at her and with his other hand, he reached for his belt. It proved too awkward for one hand and he cursed as he took his other hand from her. She gasped as the mounting feeling paused and she watched, panting, as he finally undid his belt and tossed it to the side, his weapons clanked as they hit the ground. He shoved his trousers down and off and she stared. He chuckled.

"It won't hurt you," he said leaning down and gathering her up.

"Are you sure?" she asked, only partly kidding.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll not...not this time."

She wondered what he meant by that, but was soon distracted by the way he pulled her astride his thighs as he crouched on his haunches. She gasped, feeling terribly exposed in this position, and her arms wound around his neck, then cupped his face as she kissed him. His hands squeezed her bottom and then cupped her breasts, his thumbs gently massaging her nipples. Her head fell back and his mouth moved to suckle at her breast and the pleasure mounted within her once more. She discovered that her hips resumed their previous rocking motion and she ached for his touch.

"Please," she said breathlessly. "Oh, please."

"Yeah," he said and his fingers returned to the throbbing place between her thighs. "Hold on."

She tightened her hold on his shoulders as his other hand fell to his…

 _Cock,_ she thought gazing down. _That's what it's called. His cock._

He wrapped his hand around the base of it and squeezed as he pulled his hand upwards. He groaned as he did so, as he rubbed and caressed the growing wetness between her legs.

"Jesus," he said and Abigail's hand fell to grip his wrist as he tugged on his cock.

"Yes," she said, hardly knowing what she was saying. "Yes, oh yes, Billy."

His fingers slipped inside her and curved a little. She arched her back, her breast pressed against his chest as her thighs tightened around his as pure sensation ripped through her body.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured as he pressed his forehead to hers. "That's it, love. That's it."

His finger curved again and touched something inside her. Sensations burst through her, starbursts exploded behind her eyes and her breath held for one incredible moment, before it escaped her in a slow, tremulous sigh that left her body tingling and limp. She blinked and her vision returned to see Billy staring at her in wonder.

"So beautiful," he said, his voice rugged and awed. "Abigail, fucking hell."

She smiled and cupped his face, pressing kisses to his mouth. Sweet kisses turned into deep kisses and she felt his hand resume stroking his cock.

"Yes," she said into his mouth. "Feel what I feel. Please? It's so wonderful. So lovely. Oh, please feel it, Billy. Feel me."

With a pained groan, he crushed her to him as his body shuddered and she felt a warmth spill onto her thighs.

They remained, clung tightly to one another for several shivery moments. Billy lifted his head from her shoulder and asked, his voice soft and warm, "All right?"

"Very," she said, her eyelids felt heavy and her limbs languid, as though she was still suspended in the ocean. "You?"

"Yeah," he said smiling a little. "Yeah, I'm all right." He frowned. "You're shaking."

"I know," she said as she met his eyes. "I think… Billy, I think I'm happy? I think that's what it is."

He stared at her in wonder and then kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks and then her mouth. Softly, slowly, and deeply, he kissed her until she felt taken apart and put back together into a new person whose body had discovered what it felt to be cared for and pleasured.

Practical matters eventually became necessary and Billy cleaned up her thighs where he'd spilled. She set her skirts and stays aside and just pulled on her chemise.

"I'm going to see if the spoils of our competition are still where we left them," he said tugging on his trousers. "I'm leaving your fish for the seagulls."

"As you wish," she said. "I still won, though."

He looked at her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, as he said, "I think we were both the winners this evening, don't you?"

The kiss he gave her was beyond cheeky and fun and she giggled when he nipped at her throat before letting her go to collect their supper.

They ate quickly and then repaired back into the shelter, where he pulled her into his arms. Their hands traced the various dips and curves of one another's bodies as they watched the sun set and the moon rise.

"That wasn't all there is, was it?" she asked in between caresses. "You didn't...take me."

His hand paused mid-glide, before he answered, "No, I didn't. I… Abigail, what do you know of...all this?"

"More than I did before I left England," she said somewhat wryly. "Lady Hamilton asked me certain questions...about what may or may not have been done to me. And then she explained everything about the act, which filled in several gaps."

"Oh," he said and his hand resumed its steady caress. "I don't suppose it's really taught to well-bred young ladies."

"I should say not," she said with a laugh. "And it really should be. Most of us live in perfect fear of what might happen once we're married, when in actual fact, it's really rather lovely." She pressed a kiss to his jaw and he smiled at her. "Lady Hamilton said it could be."

"Did she?" he asked rubbing his nose alongside hers.

"She said that with the right partner, there was an endless sea of pleasures and delights to discover," she said. "She was right." She ducked her eyes down. "At least, I think she was. What's been your experience?"

"Minimal," he said. "And lacking. Abigail," he paused, "it's _never_ been like this for me. Never. It's not the act. It's _you_."

Despite everything they'd done, pink filled his cheeks and Abigail was secretly delighted by it. She pressed her lips to his and he pulled her to him, slotting her against him so that her leg curved over his. They kissed while the moon rose in the night sky, and fell asleep curled around each other.

* * *

Abigail awoke the next morning alone.

She sat up and immediately looked towards the surf when she heard a splash. It was about then that she realised that Billy's clothes were still inside the shelter beside his boots.

"Oh," she breathed and bit her lip as she emerged from the shelter.

The sun was just breaking over the horizon and the rays outlined his bare body where he washed waist-deep in the surf. Absently, Abigail reached for some water and quickly swallowed several mouthfuls as she watched him. He paused mid-splash and turned to look over his shoulder.

She waved a little and he grinned before he started up the beach, his skin golden in the early morning sun, his limbs long and strong. He was utterly, utterly beautiful.

 _I want to put my mouth on him,_ she thought madly. _All over. I want to taste him all over._

She looked down, somewhat surprised at herself and took a long sip of her water.

"Morning," he said when he was near.

"Good morning," she said and she turned her face to receive the kiss he leant down to give her. Her hand cupped his neck and he grinned against her lips.

"Rain's coming," he said as they pulled apart and he moved to put his trousers back on.

"Really?" she asked looking out at the horizon.

"Look behind you," he said nodding at the other side of the island.

She turned and saw a heavy grey cloud headed their way.

"Is it a serious storm?" she asked.

"Nah, just a shower," he said. "Should freshen up the water at the spring."

They went about their usual morning routine of eating some coconut and watching the sunrise. But this morning was interspersed with Billy sneaking quick kisses on Abigail's neck and Abigail eating the entirety of her coconut whilst perched on Billy's lap.

She'd just finished her last bite of the flaky insides when the rain started. It was a cool, soft rain that washed away some of the mugginess and Abigail tilted her head back to let the drops fall on her face.

"Hey," he said after they both stood in the rain for a few minutes and as it rained down harder. "Come with me."

He held out his hand and Abigail glanced down at herself, still only clad in her chemise that fell to just above her knees. With a shrug, she took his hand and he led her across the beach to the trees. The rain intensified and fell down in sheets on the sea, but under the trees, it was softened by the large leaves.

"Remember this?" Billy asked as he led her over to the tree with the large leaves.

He reached up and tugged a leaf down, and the water streamed into his open mouth.

"Of course," she said grinning. "My turn?"

She stood in front of him, her back pressed flush against his chest and as he aimed the leaf at her mouth, she laughed when the water struck her nose before it found her lips.

She swallowed what she could, and Billy ducked his head down over hers to capture the rest. He pulled down a few more leaves as the rain poured down through the trees.

Unable to stop herself, she turned in his arms while he drank and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest, directly over his heartbeat.

He groaned, released the leaf which sprang back up, showering them both with water, and cupped her rain-soaked face. His mouth was cool from the fresh rainwater and they kissed lazily, their tongues stroking slowly as they pressed as close as they could to one another.

The ache deep down between her thighs that Abigail felt the night before returned and she arched against him, her hips automatically seeking pressure against where she needed it the most.

Billy tore his mouth from hers as he knelt in front of her.

"What-?" she asked dazed.

He didn't say a word, just lightly pushed her back so the she leant against a tree trunk. Then, without taking his eyes from hers, he smoothed his hands over the backs of her legs, up her thighs, to cup her bottom, leaving her bare to his gaze, her chemise bunched around his wrists.

Unable to say a word, and honestly unsure what she'd say even if she could find her voice, she simply stared down at him with wide eyes.

He pressed a soft kiss to her belly, just above her mound. He dragged his lips over the curve of her hips and licked at the crease of her thigh. Her hands rested atop his head, her fingers digging into his short hair.

When he slid a finger along her wetness, her head fell back and her eyes closed. She moaned as he feathered kisses along her mound and when he lifted her knee to rest over his shoulder, exposing her completely, she gasped.

"Trust me," he said, his voice a ragged, rasping thing. "Abigail, please trust me."

"I do," she breathed.

"Good," he said and then his mouth touched her swollen flesh and coherent thought fled her completely.

Several wonderful minutes later, she cried out when her pleasure struck out across her body from where Billy's tongue had been doing such incredible things. When she looked down only to see him with his hand on his cock as he stroked himself to his own end, her pleasure peaked again.

She panted as he leant forward, resting his head against her stomach, her chemise falling to cover her once more.

"I...had no earthly idea that was something one could do," she said, as she ran her fingers over his head.

He nodded. "I'm not exactly practiced at it. Are you all right?"

To answer his question, Abigail pushed him back a little, settled herself atop his thighs, and kissed him until they were both breathless.

* * *

After the rain stopped, and after they finally emerged from the trees, they went about their usual business. Abigail fished while Billy tended the fire which had died during the storm.

Supper time came upon them and Abigail cooked some fish over the fire, which they ate with their fingers sitting side by side.

Abigail finished her supper and ducked into the shelter to find the comb Murphy made her. She returned to the fireside and Billy, then undid her long plait. She wrinkled her nose as she tugged at small knots and tangles. Once it was loose, she sectioned it and started to comb out the ends of one section.

"May I?" Billy asked and she looked at him in surprise, but he just shrugged. "I've never done it before."

She smiled and moved to sit in front of him; he parted his legs a bit so she could sit between his knees. Handing him the comb, she said, "Just start at the base and work your way up."

After few moments and a few tugs that she laughed off, he got the way of it and methodically combed out the salt and snarls. Every time he finished a section, he carefully laid it over her shoulder and Abigail sighed as her eyes fell shut.

"Think my father might've done this for my ma, once," he said.

She hmm'd. "Did they love each other? Your parents?"

"Yeah," he said as he ran the comb through the length of her hair. "I think they did. They believed the same things. My father always listened to my mother's opinion, too. Not like some of the other men. Did yours? Your parents, I mean. Did they love each other?"

"I've thought about that a great deal since Charles Town," she said opening her eyes and tilting her head as he pulled the comb through her hair. "At one point, I would have said unequivocally that yes, they loved each other. But now, I'm not so sure."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well, it was arranged, of course," she said sighing. "So it wasn't a love match in the first instance. My father's family had the title, but my mother's family had the money and the land. However, I always thought there was a decent measure of affection between them." She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on top. "Looking back, I think there was an imbalance that they never managed to navigate. They knew the other had married for the other's need, not for who they were. I don't even know why it bothers me; it's how things were done. Still is how they're done."

"Was that to be your future?" he asked, substituting his fingers for the comb and she shivered as they ran along the back of her head. "Some arrangement with some stranger?"

"Yes," she said simply. "My father's last letter to me before I set sail had the names of two families who were...eager to make my acquaintance."

Billy snorted, but gently finished combing her hair and tucked it over one shoulder, so he could lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to her bare neck. She hummed and closed her eyes.

"Would you have done it?" he asked, lightly brushing his lips along her throat. "Married some man your father chose for you?"

"It's what I've been bred to do," she said arching her neck for more. "I was born a daughter. I had no use or ambition beyond what I could provide for my father." She turned in the circle of his arms and looked him in the eyes, her hair loose and wild about her shoulders. "But not anymore. I'm my own person. I'll not be bartered or traded ever again. I refuse to be." She paused. "Am I mad for wanting that?"

"Mad?" he asked as he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "For wanting to make your own way? No. Never. Take back your power, Abigail. If anyone can, it'd be you."

Overwhelmed and her body aflame from his touch, she pressed herself as close to him as she could and kissed him with everything she could muster. She felt fierce and wanton and free and she hitched up her skirts to straddle him. He groaned when she settled atop his lap.

"Yeah, love," he said his hands curved around her hips and tugged her down on his cock that hardened beneath her. "Take what you want. Tell me what you want and I'll do it."

She gasped and tucked her face into his neck, her cheeks burned with desire. "I can't," she whispered.

"Yes, you can," he chuckled. "Come on, tell me. What do want, Abigail? Tell me how to make you feel good?"

"Your mouth," she said against his throat as she pressed kisses and licked at his pulse. "Please, Billy, I want your mouth on me."

In a move that showcased all of his strength, Abigail found herself carried inside the shelter, gently laid down, her chemise pushed to up above her breasts, and Billy's mouth precisely where she wanted it.

When she'd found her pleasure, she pushed him to his back and took him in hand while she pressed fevered kisses to his mouth over and over.

Once again, they spent the night entwined as the moon waxed above them and Abigail wondered if she'd be allowed to take these wonderful feelings with her when they left the island?

* * *

The days passed in a haze of kisses and touches the likes of which Billy had never indulged in before. He longed with every part of himself to fuck her properly, but he'd meant what he said. While he was more than happy to touch and pleasure her, he wasn't about to saddle her with a babe. He'd seen what childbirth could do to a woman and he wasn't about to bring a child into his war.

 _Not yet, at least_ , a voice whispered in his mind. He shoved such longings to the side and remained grateful that he could enjoy her smiles and her touches which were becoming bolder by the moment.

The afternoon where she'd eyed him after he'd finished fishing stood out in particular. She'd sat in front of him, prim as you like, as she opened his trousers and promptly applied her mouth to his cock. He'd nearly passed out from the pleasure of it and knew that moment would stay with him forever. As would the proud look she'd given him as he recovered from coming so hard, he'd lost vision for a spell.

When he'd been coherent enough to speak, she'd said, "Power comes in many, many forms, doesn't it?" Then she'd lowered her eyes and blushed. "Was that...too much? I mean, was that all right?"

He'd knelt before her, flipped up her skirts and proceeded to show her how 'all right' it had been.

Twice.

Not that it was a hardship to do so; he hadn't realised a man could get drunk off the taste of a woman, but there he was.

Part of him knew it was too good to last, but he did his best to just experience as much of the happiness and closeness as he could.

His suspicions proved to be true when he awoke early one morning to find that he was alone. He sat up and spotted Abigail sitting beside the fire, her spine straight as she stared out at the horizon. Rubbing his forehead, he crawled out of the shelter and sat beside her, his arm falling around her shoulders.

With a sigh, she curled close to him and he rubbed the chill from her arms.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked pressing his lips to her head.

"Not really," she replied. "My eyes opened and sleep escaped me. It's fine, though, I've grown rather fond of having such a large fire to sit beside as I watch the sun come up."

He chuckled. "They're not exactly practical on board a ship.

"I shouldn't think so," she said. "Do you know-"

She cut herself off and looked away. He frowned and looked down at her, noting that she'd closed her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked. "Abigail?"

"How long did you say it would take your crew to come for you?" she asked, her voice strange. "Fourteen days?"

"Yeah, about that," he said. "Why?"

"Today marks the twelfth day since we last saw Mr Murphy," she said, before she looked at him. "Your crew is early."

He stared at her and then looked out at the horizon. Smoke from the fire drifted in front of his eyes, but he saw the outline of a mainsail against the dawning light.

"Is it them?" Abigail asked quietly.

"Yeah," he breathed, even as his arm curled her close. "It's the _Walrus_."

* * *

A/N2: Dun, dun, DUN! This ends Book I of 'a tide of hope'. I'm afraid I'll be off for the next couple of weeks but will return with the start of Book II. You're all amazing and thank you!


	11. On the Walrus I

A/N: You're all amazing and wonderful and I cannot believe the support you have shown for this little story. I'm still having a blast writing it and we're about to get into the drama! THANK YOU so much!

* * *

Abigail kept still, Billy's arm still wrapped around her shoulders as they watched the _Walrus_ sail into view. The sun just peeked over the horizon and the mainsails were silhouetted against the sky. Her heart pounded in her chest and a chill settled into her fingers.

 _This was always going to happen_ , she told herself. _This is a good thing. It's a rescue. It's what you wanted. Remember that, Abigail Grace. This was always going to happen. You were always going to have to let him go._

"How long until they reach us?" she asked, her voice steadier than her nerves.

"The tide's out at the moment," he said even as his fingers flexed on her shoulder. "They'll wait until its coming in before risking the breakers." He sighed. "Fuck. We should get rid of those."

Abigail looked at their makeshift pots that had originally been Spanish armour. "You're not going to tell them about the gold?"

"No," he said firmly and he tugged her so that she faced him. "We're not telling them about it. The last thing I want to do is have more gold brought into the current situation and…" His blue eyes bore into hers. "I want to have some kind of insurance should the worst happen."

"You're taking it with you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. But you are. Come on."

"Wait," she said as he jumped to his feet and she hurried after him, very aware that she was still clad in just her chemise. "Billy! Shouldn't I get dressed?"

"It'll take them a little while to get here, you're fine," he said as he gathered up the helmet and breastplate, both blackened from use on the fire. "Come with me."

He strode away from the fire and Abigail did her best to keep up with him. He seemed to be a man possessed as he headed to the trees, his feet kicking up sand as he walked, and she felt the chill from earlier spread to her chest. Practically running, Abigail reached his side and tried to catch his eyes, but he resolutely didn't look at her.

"Better put your shoes on later," he said brusquely. "They're decent enough men, but give 'em an inch… And I don't know who's been looking after the decks; don't want a splinter."

"Right, of course," Abigail said, frowning; why on earth was he discussing her shoes? "Billy-"

"And Flint'll want to talk to you," he said shoving a branch out of his way. "Just…tell him what you told me and he'll be polite enough, I think. It was your father he hated, not you."

"Good to know," she muttered and felt a pang at the thought of having to face Captain Flint, for she doubted that much of James McGraw existed anymore. "What—"

"And I'll make sure that none of the others touch you," he carried on. "You're under my protection; they'll keep their distance. Don't know what the fuck to do when we reach Nassau, but I'll figure something out. Fuck knows what they've done to my plans. We were in the midst of getting supply lines organised and if Murphy's right about the Governor throwing his weight around, Christ…" He shook his head. "In any case, I'll make sure you're all right."

"I know you will," she said, "although you don't need to. Billy, why are you—"

"And don't say a thing to Silver," he bit out. "The man'll have you doing his dirty work in a heartbeat. So steer clear of him."

"I don't understand what you're doing," she said breathlessly. "You appear to be…overreacting."

"I'm not overreacting," he said as they reached the water and he slipped around the side of it, edging forward carefully until he found the hole to the cave. "I'm making sure you know what to expect and to make sure that this gold stays a secret."

"You're also running about like a headless chicken," she said. "What aren't you telling me?" She waited for him to say something, but he just pushed the brush aside, revealing the entrance to the cave. "Billy? Billy, please, say something-"

"Marry me."

Abigail lost her voice and her breath as she stared at his back. With a clatter, he tossed the blackened armour into the hole and turned around to face her.

"Marry me," he repeated, his eyes wide and wild. "I know you believe yourself to be ruined in the eyes of society prior to this, but you most certainly are now, despite what we…may or may not have done. Marry me."

"What?" she asked, her voice small and tiny.

"Marry me," he said, his eyes bored into hers and for a blissful, shining moment…Abigail imagined herself saying 'yes'.

But, as tears burned in Abigail's throat and her heart thudded heavily, she said softly, "…no."

He blinked and shook his head, as he stepped close to her and oh, she wished he'd put on a shirt, she couldn't think when he was bared before her.

"Abigail," he said cupping her face. "Marry me."

"Is that an order?" she asked, sucking in a breath.

"You know it isn't."

"Then, no," she said, lips trembling. "And I don't believe that you truly wish for me to say 'yes'."

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You believe that?" He pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers. "I want you safe, Abigail. We leave this island without some kind of understanding and you're on your own and –"

"And that was what was always going to happen," she cried, a few tears finally escaping her eyes. "Don't you see? I was always going to be on my own. I was on my own before I washed up on this shore with you. I was always going to be on my own once we were found. You have a _war_ to fight, Billy. The last thing you need is a _wife_."

"Abigail-"

"Please don't ask me again," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Please, Billy."

He stilled against her and with a ragged sigh, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Damn it to hell, Abigail. I should force the issue. I should make you marry me."

"But you won't," she said shaking her head. "You have too much honour to force me."

"Honour," he repeated, snorting. "It's honour that should have me marching you to a priest as soon as I can find one."

"No," she said cupping his face and rising up on her tiptoes to meet his eyes. "It's honour for your cause and for your brothers that you must return to. And it's honouring my quest for freedom." She shook her head. "I'll be fine."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. "I hate this."

"I'll be fine," she repeated, her voice breaking.

"Fuck," he muttered as he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer. "I wish you weren't so fucking practical."

"No, you don't," she whispered.

"Don't I?" he said cradling her head in his large hand. "I know that you're right. That'd I'd make the worst sort of husband for you. That my fate is to die with a sword in my hand and I'll not leave you like that—"

"Stop," she said pressing her mouth to his in a desperate kiss. "Don't say that."

"Abigail," he groaned before he swept her into a hard, deep kiss that overwhelmed her thoughts and left her shivering. "Someday, you'll find a man who'll be free to love you."

"Don't," she breathed.

"No, you will," he said smiling a little before his expression hardened. "But I'm enough of a bastard to be grateful that even if he wins your hand, I'll have been the first to touch you, Abigail Ashe."

"Always," she murmured as his mouth descended upon hers once more and as the sun rose behind them, she kissed him with every desperate wish and desire she had.

Eventually, he stopped and set her back on the ground. He smoothed his thumb over her swollen lower lip and nodded, almost to himself.

"I'm going to fetch some of those coins," he said. "Can you find a place to keep them safe on you?"

"Yes," she said nodding. "Aren't you going to—"

He shook his head. "No need. And you're only to use them if you have to. Don't go flashing them around Nassau."

"I honestly hadn't planned on it," she said rolling her eyes.

"Cheeky little thing," he said smiling and chucking her chin before he turned solemn. "Any sign of trouble, you're to come to me, yeah? I'll protect you until my last breath."

"I know," she said pressing her hand atop his chest, his heart thrumming under her palm. "I will. And I'll do the same for you, as well. Should you have need of me… Billy, I…" She closed her eyes. "I wish things weren't as they are."

"Yeah," he said. "For the first time in a long time, I wish the same, love."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. They held one another's gaze for several long, melancholy moments until Billy nodded.

"Let's get ready, yeah?" he said softly.

"Yes," she said. "I'm ready."

Abigail was not ready.

At all.

Every step she took with her bare feet, every single time the soles of her feet sank into the warm sand, she ached with the knowledge that she'd never feel this particular kind of freedom again.

Oh, she wasn't so melodramatic to think that she'd never again experience happiness or pleasure or the satisfaction of fending for herself, but she could admit that, at the moment, it seemed rather unlikely. That wasn't even taking her relationship, such as it was, with Billy into account.

A vicar had once said that only those with souls bound for Hell were truly wretched and that well-bred, gentle young ladies couldn't possibly know what it felt to be truly wretched.

Bearing that in mind, Abigail felt bloody wretched.

But she carried on and went about clothing herself. She managed to stow a handful of the gold coins in various linings of her skirts, which she then put back on. Her stockings were still too much a mess to put on, so she kept them wrapped around her waist. After spending some time adjusting the torn ties of her bodice, she fashioned her stays and the bodice of her dress into remaining on her person. Although, it was obvious that her bodice had been through some tough times, but there wasn't really anything Abigail could do about that.

She tidied up their living space, her eyes glanced at Billy as he pulled his shirt back on and all that lovely skin was covered up once more. He tugged his boots on and laced them up, before he fastened his belt and weapons to his waist.

"No need to do any fishing," he said with a small glance at her. "If the tide's in, they may just pick us up and head straight back out."

"Of course," she said nodding and with a pang, she took apart her net and then eyed her shoes.

They were in decent enough shape, but everything in her rebelled at the idea of putting them on her feet. She picked one up and stared at it.

 _You're being ridiculous_ she told herself. _You're letting a simple pair of shoes have far too much power. And you know that the moment you get yourself a horrible splinter, you'll be wishing for them, so put them on your feet, Abigail._

She put them on her feet and did her best to ignore the pinch against her toes and the rasp of the sand against her ankles.

Instead, she watched Billy watch the horizon. The sun beat down upon the sea and glinted off the sweat beaded along his forehead and temples. She knew how those places tasted, she thought. She knew how his skin felt against hers. She knew how his hands held her steady while she practiced with a sword, how they held her shoulders as she tried to throw a punch, how they cradled her close while she shivered in ecstasy.

And now she was to turn her back on all of that and carry on towards whatever her future held for her. Alone once more.

Something on the horizon caught her eye. She got to her feet and shaded her eyes as she walked towards the shoreline.

"Is that-?" she asked.

He nodded.

"They're trying the reef," he said.

In silence, they watched as a longboat approached the crashing waves and both held their breath when the longboat went up, up and then…down, into the bay. They'd made it.

"You were wrong about one thing earlier," she said as they watched the boat row closer.

"Yeah?" he said wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "What about?"

"I think you'd make the best sort of husband," she said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head whip to look at her, but she just nodded and then walked back to the shelter to gather up the rest of her meagre possessions, making sure that the comb Murphy carved for her was tucked into her skirts.

She'd survived Ned Lowe; she'd survived Charles Vane; she'd survived the mocking sneers of society matrons and their grasping sons. She'd survived the death of her beloved mother and the murder of her shamed father. She'd even survived being stranded on an island with only her wits and a pirate.

Surely, next to all of that, surviving a broken heart would be simple?

"Oh, God," she whispered quietly. "Give me the strength to survive this."

* * *

Billy watched her go and swallowed back whatever fool thing he'd almost said. Instead, he looked back out at the bay and the approaching longboat.

He could pick out Joji and Ben Gunn's silhouettes against the harsh midday sun and he suspected that was Jacob Garrett rowing alongside someone else. He'd figured that neither Flint nor Silver would venture to the island. For all they knew, it was a fool's errand to see if he was alive.

His spine straightened and he raised a hand when Ben Gunn hailed him. Something like relief washed over him. These were his brothers, his crew, his friends. He was glad to see them.

He very resolutely ignored the part of himself that still reeled from Abigail's words.

 _I think you'd make the best sort of husband._

Why the fuck would she say something like that? She wasn't one for false compliments, so she must have meant it and Jesus Christ, he couldn't, he _wouldn't_ think on it any further. His men would know that something had happened between himself and Abigail, but he wasn't about to let them think it was anything more than it was.

 _As if you know what it is any more than they do,_ he thought bitterly. _I think you've missed a good thing here, Billy Bones. And you're only going to have yourself to blame at the end of all this._

"You've got the Devil's own luck, Billy Bones!" Ben Gunn called from the boat when it was close to the shore and Billy chuckled when the others shouted at him.

"Certainly seems that way," Billy called back. "How much of a mess have you lot created for me to deal with?"

"In Nassau or with the sails?" Jacob shouted grinning. "You're a fucking charmed man, you arse."

Billy laughed out loud and despite the churning in his gut that stemmed from the knowledge that Abigail was only a few steps away, he felt relief at seeing his crewmates. They'd been to hell and back and there wasn't much he wouldn't do for them.

 _There's not much you won't do for her, either,_ a voice whispered in his mind; but he ignored it in favour of helping land the boat onto the shore. Ben, Jacob Garrett, Joji and one of the riggers, Jones, jumped out of the boat, all grinning.

"You stupid bastard," Jacob said slapping his back. "Only you would have the bad luck to fall into the sea twice, and the good luck to survive it. Twice."

"It's not something I plan on doing ever-fucking again," Billy replied shaking his head.

Billy shook Joji's outstretched hand who nodded at him as he said, "Good to see you, Billy. Ship's never quite the same."

"Neither is Nassau," Ben said. "It's not bad, but we could really use…some…"

He trailed off and Billy knew instantly that he'd spotted Abigail. The others fell silent and stared over his shoulder. He noticed Joji's eyes narrow and then widen in recognition before he glanced at Billy. Billy just nodded slightly.

"Murphy mentioned a mermaid," Jacob said eyeing Abigail. "But I thought he was drunk."

"He probably was," Billy said. "But he was also right." He looked over his shoulder at Abigail and she stared at him. He beckoned her over. "It's all right. Gents, this is Abigail Ashe. You, uh, might remember her."

"Hello," she said softly as she approached them and he winced at the sight of her feet covered once again with her shoes. "I suppose Mr Murphy made his way back to Nassau?"

"Ah, yes, he did, miss," Ben said nodding slightly. "Last we saw him, he was waving us off with a tankard in hand. We believed him when he said he'd seen Billy, but I'll confess I thought he was wrong about the mermaid."

Abigail smiled. "It was a rather fanciful notion and we should have disabused him of it, but he persisted. I'm most grateful that you're here now."

"Miss Ashe," Joji said, inclining his head.

"Mr Joji, isn't it?" she said curtseying shallowly. "I remember you from the warship." She looked at the other men. "I'm sorry, I don't recall your names."

The men stared at her and then at Billy, who rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, Ben's new to the crew. He's the skinny Irish fellow. That's Jacob Garrett with the beard and Jones with…the other beard."

"I'm also the one with manners," Jones said grinning and winking at her as he bowed a little.

Abigail smiled. "So I see."

"If you don't mind me asking," Ben said smiling and glancing between Billy and Abigail. "How'd you wind up here, miss?"

"That ship during the storm," Billy said. "Off the port side. It was headed south from Virginia and Miss Ashe was on it."

"You fell overboard?" Jones asked wincing. "Christ, that's bad luck, miss."

"It wasn't something I'd care to repeat," Abigail said. "Do you know what happened to the _Hadley_? The other ship?"

Billy looked at the men, curious about the ship's fate as well.

Jacob frowned. "It's not in port, if that's what you're asking. I think it was, but I'm fairly sure it's moved on, miss."

"Mr DeGroot will know," Ben added. "You can check with him when we..." He jerked his chin towards the _Walrus_.

"Speaking of," Billy said. "Flint just decided that it was worth coming this way on the word of a drunk man?"

"We're headed to the Maroon Island," Joji said. "Enough of the crew wanted to take the chance that you'd be here, so the captain figured an hour to look wasn't too much of a detour."

"Mr Silver thought the same," Ben added.

"Fair enough, I suppose," Billy said, although he wondered if they hadn't been headed towards the Maroon Island, would they have even bothered. "Any ideas on how to get back over the reef?"

"How'd Mad Murphy do it?" Jones asked.

"He was in a basket," Billy replied shaking his head. "I don't think we should use him as an example."

Abigail covered up a laugh with her hand and Billy winked at her. He caught Joji arching an eyebrow and cleared his throat before he said, "It may just need the right wave and a hard row."

"We'll manage it," Jacob said. "Better get back on it. Don't want the tide to desert us." He looked around the island. "Don't suppose you need to pack; is there anything on the sandbar?" He grinned at Abigail. "Aside from pretty mermaids?"

She flushed and looked down and Billy shot a glare at Jacob who just chuckled while Billy replied, "Nah, just more sand. There's a small rock that collects rainwater, but you'd be dead during the dry months."

"Fuck," Jones said looking around. "Better you than me, Bones. At least you had company. Lovely company, eh?"

"Right, I'll say this once and only once," Billy said stepping towards them. "Miss Ashe is not to be teased or touched. Anyone comes near her with ill intent will face me and I will not hesitate to tear them apart, yeah?" He looked at the others and they nodded, Joji still giving him a considering look. "She's been through hell and back and I'll not have the rest of her journey be more of the same. Let the others know."

"No worries, Billy," Jacob said nodding. "No one'll lay a hand on your mermaid."

Abigail sighed. "I really should have dissuaded Mr Murphy from calling me that."

"Think it's here to stay, miss," Ben said smiling.

"It's no matter," Abigail said. "I've been called worse. Now, how can I help with the rowing?"

Billy caught the men's surprised glances, but he just said, "You can't. In fact, once we reach the reef, I want you down on the bottom. Better to stay low while we try to get us up and over."

She frowned and he recognized that look, but she simply said, "As you suggest."

"Right." Billy looked at the island, taking in the shelter and the still burning fire. "Better put that out."

Between the men, the fire was soon extinguished and he spotted Abigail watching them with bright eyes. When she noticed him looking at her, she blinked rapidly. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, which she wiped away, turning her back to him.

His guts churned and his chest tightened; but he followed the men to the boat, away from the dying fire.

The others got into the boat, while Jacob and Billy took up position on the sand at the rear, ready to shove off.

"Where-?" Abigail asked, standing close to the boat, waves rippling and soaking her shoes.

"Here," Billy said and he lifted her into the boat. Her hands grasped his arms as he set her down. "In the middle. And hang on."

She nodded, her hands grabbing onto the thin seat beneath her. Billy and Jacob pushed hard and the boat slid into the water. They leapt into the boat and took up their positions. The oars fitted into Billy's palms as he rowed hard.

Ah, God, he'd missed this. The feel of his muscles burning as he worked hard; the way he and his men just moved in the right way together. They approached the breakers quickly with everyone pulling hard on the oars. Abigail stared at the island and Billy fought the urge to look behind him at the place that he'd felt so at peace for the first time in so long. But he kept his eyes forward and his arms moving.

"Gonna have to go hard on my go," Ben shouted from the prow.

"Time it on the swell," Joji shouted back.

Billy nodded and glanced at Abigail, who stared back at him.

"Get down and stay there, yeah?" he said, nodding at the bottom of the boat.

She nodded and slipped off the bench, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest. She kept her eyes open and fixed on the oars as they rowed.

Billy tore his eyes from her and focussed on the upcoming reef. Christ, how they managed to make it over the first time without breaking something, he didn't know. The surf broke over the reef underneath and he could almost see the rocks and coral below.

"Big swell coming," Ben warned. "Ready, lads?"

They all shouted 'aye' and then when the wave just crested over the reef, Ben shouted, "Row!"

They rowed.

The boat struggled up the wave, and salt spray doused their faces and arms as they rowed hard in unison. There was a sharp scrape as they passed over the reef, but a quick glance down confirmed the lack of a breach.

"Row!" Ben called again and again, they rowed, muscles burning and eyes squinted in concentration as they crested over another large wave.

But then…they were clear.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they moved away from the breakers. They still rowed with intensity, but the waves were calmer under their oars.

Billy blinked back saltwater and sweat from his eyes as he looked down at Abigail. She stared up at him as she slowly moved back onto the bench.

"All right?" he shouted.

"Fine," she shouted back. "Although I think I preferred my first journey over it."

"You were probably unconscious then," he said.

"Exactly my point!" she said grinning.

He chuckled and the others grinned, while Jones barked out a laugh behind Abigail.

"She's a clever one, isn't she, Bones?" he called.

"Too clever by half," Billy called back. "Don't underestimate this one, lads."

Abigail laughed as she looked about. Her smile dropped from her face at the sight of the _Walrus_ coming ever nearer and Billy felt his own apprehension swell. He may have been going home, but she was, once again, heading into the unknown. Billy honestly doubted that Flint would do anything to harm her, but he wasn't about to predict what the man's reaction would be.

 _What's done is done,_ he told himself. _You couldn't leave her on the island and Flint's unpredictable, but he's not mad. Mostly._

A cheer burst out on the deck as they drew near and Billy grinned up at the crew where they shouted and waved over the sides.

"Get back to work, you bastards!" he shouted up at them.

Another round of cheers spilled over and he chuckled.

They rowed the boat flush alongside the ship and Ben quickly tied it up and headed up the ladder; Jones and Joji after him.

"I'll go first," Billy said to Abigail. "Then you."

"All right," she said suddenly pale as she eyed the wet ladder.

"It'll be all right," he said as he moved past her, his hand resting for a moment, broad and warm on her shoulder and when she looked up at him with her eyes wide and nervous, but her spine and shoulders straight, he fought the urge to untie the boat and row them back to the island. He repeated, softly, "It'll be all right. I'll make sure of it."

"So will I," she said, showing her usual determination.

He smiled a little and helped her over to the ladder, then he headed up, while Jacob held it still. The weight shifted and he knew that she'd started to climb. Billy hauled himself over the side to a cheerful crew. They pulled him in and slapped his shoulder, teasing and shouting. He laughed and shook hands and when he remembered to turn to help Abigail, Ben was already there.

The crew fell silent as they watched Ben assist Abigail over the side of the ship. She smiled her thanks at him and then looked towards Billy and the rest of the crew.

"Christ, Bones," someone shouted. "You mean there really was a mermaid?"

Abigail blushed and looked down, before raising her eyes to Billy as if to say, 'Right, this is _your_ ship; your move.'

"Well, lads-," he started to say, but the men clustered near the quarterdeck parted as Flint, Silver and Madi came their way.

"You know, if anyone was going to survive falling into the ocean and getting washed up on an island, only to be discovered by a drunk Irishman, it'd be you, Billy," Silver called out in that teasing, yet serious way of his. He started to say something else, but Flint had come to an abrupt stop.

Billy tensed when he saw Flint eye Abigail as though she were a ghost. The captain's gaze flickered to Billy and Billy could only nod.

"Miss Ashe?" Flint said at long last.

"Captain," she said giving him an unsteady curtsey. "I…" She cleared her throat and drew herself up straight. "Permission to be aboard, captain?"

Billy glanced back at Flint and noticed the small tick at the corner of his eyes; Billy straightened slowly, ready to fight if he needed to. But Flint eased and nodded.

"Permission granted, Miss Ashe," he said inclining his head. "Now, if you'll pardon my language, how the hell did you end up here?"

"I was journeying to the South Americas when our ship, the _Hadley_ , ran into the same inclement weather that you did," she said calmly, although Billy could see the way her fingers curled into her skirts. "I was washed overboard and awoke on the island with Mr Bones."

Flint stared at her. "The South Americas?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I was accompanying a nature expedition."

"Is that so?" Flint asked, his brow furrowing as he studied her.

Billy had to give Abigail credit, she stood completely still and calm as the captain stared at her and the rest of the crew eyed them both. Silver kept his gaze on Flint, while Madi seemed to serenely assess Abigail from head to toe.

"If I may ask," Abigail said, breaking the silence. "I was told that someone may know what became of the _Hadley_ following the storm. I don't suppose it is still in Nassau."

Flint merely called over his shoulder, "Mr DeGroot?"

DeGroot stepped forward, throwing a sharp nod at Billy in welcome, and then said, "If it's the one I'm thinking of, it docked in Nassau for some repairs and supplies. It headed on its way over a week ago."

"I see," she said as she tried to smile.

"They said that they lost two bodies," DeGroot said. "One was crew, the other a female passenger. Begging your pardon, miss, but I didn't see 'Ashe' on the manifest."

"You wouldn't have," she said clasping her hands together. "After my…previous sea voyages, I thought it prudent to use a name that wasn't my own. Was the name of the lost passenger 'Avery'?"

"It was," DeGroot said smiling a bit.

"My mother's maiden name," Abigail said. "I don't suppose any of my belongings were turned in?"

"Couldn't say, miss," DeGroot said. "But check with the tavern when you reach Nassau. They may know."

"Thank you," Abigail said nodding her head before she looked at Billy and then over at Flint. "Would it be possible to trespass on your kindness and request passage to Nassau? I'm afraid I don't have any money, but I'm more than willing to earn my way."

Billy started. Christ, she'd never mentioned trying to pay her way to Nassau. Why did she have to be so damned independent? He looked to Flint who just nodded.

"You may accompany us, Miss Ashe. I'm hardly going to throw you overboard for not having money after being swept out to sea. We can discuss terms later." His eyes narrowed suddenly as something occurred to him, and he looked sharply at Billy, then Abigail, before he said, "Come with me. I'm sure you have need of refreshment. Billy, welcome back and come with us. Everyone, make ready to cast off. Mr DeGroot, get us underway."

Flint was met by a chorus of 'Aye, captain's and the crew headed off to their respective posts, some taking a moment to slap Billy's back as they went.

As for Billy, he found himself caught in Flint's narrow eyed stare, before the other man jerked his head in the direction of his quarters. Billy looked at Abigail who, with her head held high, walked after the captain; despite her bedraggled appearance, her comportment was every inch the well-bred lady he knew her to be.

He followed and Silver fell in beside him, Madi nearby, observing everything.

"We're not diverting from our original course, so clearly the captain believes Miss Ashe to be trusted with the knowledge of the island," Silver said lowly. "But what do you think? Is she trustworthy? And do try to stem whatever sentimentality which may have arisen from your time together when answering."

"Yes," Billy said through clenched teeth. "She's trustworthy. She's the last person to run to the authorities or tell any of our secrets."

"Is that so?" Silver asked, arching an eyebrow.

"The death of her father didn't exactly pave a smooth path for her," Billy said as they approached the captain's quarter and he kept his eyes on Abigail's plait as it swayed gently as she walked. "She's not precisely had an easy life after we left her. She'll keep our secrets."

"If she doesn't," Silver said. "May we hold you responsible?"

Billy paused and looked at Silver and then at Madi who also gazed back, her eyes not missing a thing. Eventually, Billy nodded.

"Yes," he said. "If any harm comes to anyone on the island as a direct result of Miss Ashe betraying a confidence, hold me to account. Not her."

Silver's eyebrows rose and Billy cursed himself internally.

Well, that had been quick. He'd managed to completely reveal his partiality for Abigail to the one person he'd wanted to hide it from. Damn John Silver to hell.

Billy turned away and walked into the room where Flint was pointing at a small chest.

"There are some of Miranda's, Lady Hamilton's, things in there," he was saying and Billy blinked. "Should you wish to…change."

"That's incredibly generous, captain, I thank you," Abigail said frowning. "But I couldn't possibly-"

"Miranda liked you, Miss Ashe," Flint said. "She'd have my head if I didn't treat you with every courtesy."

"All the same," Abigail said, looking disconcerted. "Please don't think that I'm content to be idle whilst everyone else is occupied. I'm more than willing to provide any assistance where I can. Billy, Mr Bones, can attest to my determination."

"Can he?" Flint asked, looking at Billy once again with not a small amount of sharpness.

"Yeah," Billy said uncomfortable. "She's not afraid of hard work. Held her own on the island well."

"Did she?" Flint asked, cocking his head to the side and Billy felt sweat bead on the back of his neck. "I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, please make yourself at home, Miss Ashe. Billy, with me. There's much to discuss."

Abigail looked at Billy quickly, and Billy managed a nod to her, hoping his expression was reassuring, but feared it fell short of the mark.

Flint, Silver and Madi moved into the hallway and Billy joined them. The door to the captain's quarters had barely clicked shut before Billy found himself shoved bodily against the wall, Flint's forearm pressed to Billy's throat.

"The fuck!" Billy grated out.

"You'll marry that girl," Flint said through bared teeth. "Do you hear me? As soon as we make landfall, you will marry that girl."

"Jesus," Billy said baring his own teeth. "How the hell is this any of your business?"

"We all came into this life with our eyes open," Flint said. "We've lied and killed and fought our way through it. Our hands, _your_ hands, are drenched with blood. We can call it valour all we want, but it's not, nor has it ever been. And that girl in there fell into this fucking mess utterly innocent and blind. I'll not have her suffer for it. And I don't give a fuck if you tell me that nothing happened on that island between you, because it doesn't matter. You'll marry her."

"Go to hell," Billy shot back. "As if you cared about her innocence when you killed her father." Flint pressed his forearm against Billy's throat and Billy sucked in a breath, but still managed to say, "Don't force her hand, Flint. Don't you dare."

"Don't make me force it," Flint said leaning in. "And just fucking marry her."

"She won't have me!" Billy bit out.

Flint blinked and his arm slackened some. "What?"

"She won't fucking have me," Billy said shoving Flint's arm away from him. "I asked her already. She said no, and don't you _dare_ think about forcing her hand. Don't you fucking dare. She's already suffered for things she hasn't done, I'm not about to make her suffer for it all over again."

Flint backed off a little and eyed Billy. "You asked her?"

"Yeah," Billy said mockingly. "I asked her. But she doesn't want to be bound to a man destined for war and I can't fucking blame her." He shrugged and determined to ensure that Flint dropped the subject, he said, "And I hardly need to be tied down to a wife right about now. The last thing I need is a commitment beyond the ones I've already made to these men and this cause. A wife would be a weakness and a burden."

The door behind them creaked open and Billy felt lightheaded. He turned his head and hoped like hell that Abigail hadn't heard him. But one look at her pale and still face said otherwise. The Barlow woman had been taller than Abigail, but she'd managed to fashion some of the other woman's clothes to fit her, although they were loose on her body. Her plait was gone and instead she'd piled her hair atop her head in a tidy knot. Her skin had burned and tanned during their time on the island, but she'd clearly done her best to wash her face, neck and hands.

She looked…older, somehow. Wiser, even, and more than ready to take on the lot of them should they stand in between her and her independence. Billy had never felt more attracted to her or more in awe. Or as much like an ass.

 _You fucking cock_ , he thought angrily. _You absolute bastard. You've lost her._

"Pardon the interruption, but I presumed you were discussing me," she said, with her head held up. "As you are well aware of my history, I'm sure you can understand that I no longer wish to leave my future in the hands of others. And as I have reached my majority, I am no longer under anyone's protection apart from my own."

"Miss Ashe," Flint said, but he stopped when she looked at him. If Billy wasn't more concerned about the fact that his lungs had ceased to function, he'd be impressed.

"I appreciate your concern, captain," she said quietly. "But I have no desire to inconvenience Mr Bones by saddling him with a wife at this point in your venture." Billy made a sound low in his throat. "He's been very kind and has taken very good care of me, but I'm more than able to look after myself. As for my reputation, as I said previously, I travelled under another name, so Abigail Ashe's reputation remains as it ever was – damaged, far prior to this experience."

If it wasn't for the tremble in her fingers where they grasped her skirts, he would have thought she was simply discussing the weather. Her tone was measured and calm, her expression revealed nothing whatsoever.

"The fact remains that prior to our confinement on the island, I had proven to be quite capable of forging my own path in this world and I see no reason to ignore that," Abigail said smoothing her hands over her skirts. "Now, this is a large ship, surely something needs doing?"

The hall rang with silence as they stared at her, only to be broken by Madi as she said, "Do you like tea, Miss Ashe?"

Everyone looked at her, and naturally, Abigail was the first to recover. "Yes. Yes, I do like tea."

"Would you care to take tea with me?" Madi asked. "I rarely get the opportunity to speak with another woman aboard the ship and I would like to hear more of your experiences in the Americas. As well as how a woman, such as yourself, was invited on an expedition."

Billy squared his jaw and glanced at Silver, who just looked amused as he watched the proceedings and Billy felt frustrated beyond reason.

"I would be honoured and delighted, ma'am," Abigail said. "Oh, I'm sorry, is it 'miss'?"

"It is Madi," Madi replied inclining her head. "My mother is the Maroon Queen and I am her emissary."

"I'm Abigail Ashe," she said smiling a little. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Madi tilted her head towards the deck in invitation and Abigail joined her. With a brief, blank glance at Billy, Abigail followed Madi into the ship, her usual guards falling into step behind them.

Billy watched them go and honestly wondered how the hell did he go from where he'd been that morning, to where he was now.

"You know," Silver said coming to stand beside Billy. "When I discovered that you had used my name without my approval to start a revolution, I seriously considered some kind of retaliation. Not revenge, necessarily," he assured Billy, "but something that would deter any future appropriation. But now?" He clapped a hand on Billy's shoulder. "The entertainment that I will derive from your present situation will prove to be a more than sufficient balm to my soul."

Billy drew in a deep breath and tried to find some inner calm and failed.

"This isn't over," Flint said to him. "But we do have much to discuss. Come."

Billy stared down the hall where Abigail had departed, spared a moment to wish he was still on the island, and then squared his shoulders and followed Flint and Silver.


	12. On the Walrus II

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your amazing comments! You don't know how much I treasure each and every one of them! Soooo, have some angst! If I had anything approaching a soundtrack for this chapter, Abigail's song would be 'Blow your mind' by Dua Lipa and Billy's would be 'Do you still love me?' by Ryan Adams. Enjoy!

* * *

Abigail was no stranger to male bravado.

She'd experienced it when she was a child and her male cousins would find themselves injured and hold back any expression of pain or discomfort. She'd seen it in men of all ages as they paraded themselves in front of eligible ladies. She'd seen it in her father that day in Charles Town when she confronted him over Lady Hamilton's death. The way a man would puff himself up in order to project some version of stoicism and strength, even when they knew they were lying through their teeth.

Therefore, when Billy stated that a wife would be nothing more than a 'weakness and a burden', Abigail understood. He had to save face in front of Captain Flint and it wasn't as though the statement were entirely false. The very last thing Billy needed was a wife. Abigail knew this and had even said as such.

That did not, however, mean that hearing it said aloud didn't _hurt_.

The hurt lingered as she walked behind Madi to a small corner in the mess where the other lady poured something that looked very much like tea into beaten tin mugs.

"I'm told that this is, in fact, tea," Madi said as she poured, "But I cannot vouch for the quality or taste."

"Honestly, I'm happy to be drinking something other than lukewarm rainwater," Abigail said curling her hand around the mug and breathing in the tea's steam.

"How long were you stranded?" Madi asked, sipping from her mug.

"Nearly a month, I believe," Abigail said. "Give or take a few days."

"That's quite the adventure," Madi said. "How did you manage it?"

"I faced each day as it came," Abigail replied after sipping her tea and sighing happily at the taste, even if it was slightly burnt. "And Billy, Mr Bones, was naturally a great help."

"He's always appeared to be very capable," Madi said. "The men certainly respect him a great deal."

"Yes, they do," Abigail said quietly staring down into her mug.

"But you have no wish to marry him?"

Abigail looked up and met Madi's fiercely intelligent eyes and supposed that she missed very little. "No, I have no wish to marry him. Even if the captain insists."

"Does he need to insist?" Madi asked. "For your sake, does he need to?"

"How do you mean?"

"I'll be blunt," Madi said, setting her mug down as she leaned forward. "The men will not know how to ask, so I will. You spent a great deal of time alone with Billy Bones, could you be with child?"

Abigail's eyes widened and suddenly understood why Flint might 'insist'. "Oh, I see. No, no, I'm not." Madi raised her eyebrows and Abigail reassured her, "I understand why you may think this, but I'm not. We…" She flushed. "Nothing occurred in such a fashion that would lead to…such an outcome."

"Very well," Madi said resuming sipping her tea. "Then you are free to make your way in this world?"

"As free as any woman with limited options can be, I suppose," she said sighing. "But, may I ask? What has brought you to stand alongside these men?"

"A common enemy," Madi said smiling slightly. "The goal of my people currently aligns with that of the Brotherhood."

"Which is?" Abigail asked.

"The removal of the English from these waters and the cessation of slavery of my people."

"That is quite the undertaking."

"It is," Madi said. "You think it impossible?"

Abigail blinked. "I am hardly the person to ask, I'm afraid."

"You are a person who knows something of the world," Madi said spreading her hands out. "I gather that you've had experiences with these sorts of men."

"Not these men," Abigail interjected. "These men are…not like the others. Not all of them, at least."

"They are not all like your Billy Bones," Madi said. "Or Captain Flint."

"Or Mr Silver?" Abigail added and when Madi's lips twitched, she wondered what kind of relationship she had with Mr Silver, and supposed that she could guess. "No, they aren't. But you asked me for an opinion and I honestly don't know." She paused. "At the end of the day, nothing is impossible. I suppose I've discovered that there is a great deal more pain involved in this life than I ever could have imagined."

"Yes," Madi said. "There is a great deal of pain, indeed." She tilted her head to the side and asked, "What will you do next?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Abigail said laughing a little. "Make my way to Nassau eventually. Figure out how to sustain myself."

"Alone?"

Billy ducking his head to kiss her flashed behind her eyes, along with the phantom sensation of his hands tugging her close and she blinked the memories away.

"Yes," Abigail said. "Alone."

Madi hummed as she nodded, and the ladies fell into a not uncomfortable silence.

After several long moments, Madi asked, "There is someone on my island who wishes to return to Nassau to be of use to our cause, but she has no wish to return to one of the plantations. Would she be welcome to accompany you when you return?"

"Of-of course," Abigail said surprised. "I should be glad of the company. I don't have any fixed plans or accommodation, however. I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Tandi has threatened to simply swim her way back to Nassau," Madi said. "Returning with you will be more than she hoped for and she'll be grateful for it."

"She wishes to take part in the ongoing situation, I presume?" Abigail asked sipping her tea once more.

"She does," Madi said. "She spent much of her life on Nassau and finds the island too confining." She paused, then said, "I hasten to add that while your help in certain situations would be appreciated, do not feel you have to support our cause."

"How can I not?" Abigail replied. "You work towards freedom from slavery. Any help I can provide, I would provide willingly." She furrowed her brow. "Although, I'm not sure what help I'd be."

"I'm sure something will present itself," Madi said smiling, before her eyes were caught by something behind Abigail. "Your Billy Bones did not mean what he said before, did he?"

Abigail's mug stopped halfway to her mouth and she knew, _she absolutely knew_ , that he had entered the mess and looked in her direction. Happy murmurs from the crew echoed in the room and she heard the easy cadence of his voice. She felt the weight of his stare and it took every inch of self-control she possessed to bring her cup to her mouth and sip delicately.

"No," she said once she'd swallowed. "He didn't. But at the same time, he did." She shook her head. "It hardly matters."

"It matters a great deal," Madi said. "I've never seen him as…affected as he is when you're near. I've been wondering what drives him to lead the Brotherhood."

"Why don't you ask him?" Abigail asked. "He's been through a great deal, but he's never made any secret of his hatred of the English Navy and their practices. I imagine he only wishes the same as you: freedom from persecution." She met Madi's steady gaze and then looked down. "But, that's only what I imagine. You would be better served to simply ask him."

"Perhaps I will," Madi said simply. "Would you like more tea, Abigail?"

"I think I'd like some fresh air, actually," Abigail said.

"Then let us go above decks," Madi said rising and Abigail followed her.

She did long for fresh air, that was the truth. After all her time on the island, she wasn't exactly ready to be forced inside once more. But her desire to escape the mess also had a great deal to do with the man who watched her as she made her way to the stairs and out of his sight. She breathed in the sea air and was pleased to see that they were well underway.

A man came up to Madi and said something to her in a low voice. Madi nodded before she turned to Abigail, "I'm afraid I must see to something."

"Oh, of course," Abigail said smiling. "I'll be fine on my own. Thank you very much for the tea and the conversation."

Madi inclined her head and departed, her men close behind her. Abigail watched them go and swallowed hard as panic seized her.

She felt exposed and so very alone on the deck and she moved to a narrow corner out of the way of the men as they managed the sails. Fast winds brushed over her neck and she fought the urge to play with her hair. She'd deliberately fashioned her hair atop her head to give herself a bit more gravitas than her simple braid provided. Lady Hamilton's clothes were loose, but she'd cinched in the ties as best as she could and the clean, if musty, fabric felt good against her skin. She hoped she looked more at ease than she felt and stepped out of the little alcove.

Movement just above her caught her eye and she saw Captain Flint on the top deck, staring through an eyeglass at the sea ahead of them.

Gathering her courage, she made her way to him.

 _Good Lord_ , she thought as she looked out over the sea, _Had it only been this morning that I woke in his arms?_

She shoved such thoughts to the back of her mind and approached Flint quietly. He accepted her company with a nod.

"Miss Ashe," he said. "Are you well?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied coming to stand beside him and the both looked out over the water. "Madi is very kind."

"Yes, she is," Flint said somewhat wryly. "I don't think I need to tell you that the island we're going to is to be kept secret?"

Abigail smirked a little. "Who would I tell?"

Flint frowned at that. "Is there truly no one? Billy…mentioned that you were on your own."

"Did he?" she asked, almost amused.

"In actual fact, he said that you had fallen on desperate times following…what occurred," Flint said wincing.

"He's right, I did," Abigail said. "I understand if that knowledge is what leads you to feel a…responsibility towards my future, but I want to assure you, I'll be quite all right on my own."

"He's not a bad sort," he said, a little wryly. "You could do far worse than Billy Bones."

"Oh, I know I could," she said laughing quietly. "But he and I have both had quite enough of being forced into situations for no other reason that pure circumstance and I have no wish to continue that trend."

"I understand that, Miss Ashe," he said looking at her and she met his gaze as best she could. "But I cannot ignore that I do bear some responsibility for your future."

"I truly wish you didn't feel that way," she said frowning. "And I cannot stop you, I suppose. But do know this, captain, I left the Americas to escape a fate comprised of a forced marriage and I will not bow to anyone's wishes apart from my own. I will no longer be a pawn to be moved across a board not of my own making."

He sighed and nodded. "I hear you, Miss Ashe. I don't like it, but I do hear you." He glanced at her dress and his expression softened a little. "Miranda would have taken your side, I think."

"Thank you, that's…very kind of you to say." She worried her lip before she continued, "I…wanted to tell you…" She closed her eyes and said quickly, "I made sure she was properly buried."

For a moment, the only sounds around them was the crash of the waves against the ship and the shouts from the crew. Abigail opened her eyes and glanced at Flint. He stood utterly still, his hands wrapped around his spyglass so tightly his knuckles were white.

She swallowed. "She's buried in a small village outside of Savannah. It was a Christian burial, I made sure of it."

And Abigail had. Before she joined her father's friends in Savannah, she'd made sure to do this one thing and had Lady Hamilton's body recovered from the square with no thought towards expense. Her father's body she'd left to the town council to see to.

"I…" Flint cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Ashe. She thought highly of you and of your composure during a difficult time."

"I thought highly of her," Abigail said softly. "She had a way about her, didn't she? She saw everything you tried to hide from the world, and yet never called attention to it."

"That she did," he said and when she glanced at him, his mouth was twisted in a way that spoke to her own internal sorrows and a secret knowledge that Abigail had held hard and cold inside herself cracked.

"After Charles Town, some of my father's belongings were sent on to me," she said, as she stared out at the sea, her eyes unseeing. "Among them were his journals which he'd always kept. I read them all. I couldn't help myself. In one, he spoke of you. Of Lord Thomas Hamilton and Lady Hamilton. Of such wonderful ideals that excited him and that he hoped he could see to their fruition." She blinked and her gaze fell to the rigging. "Then one day, he made an entry that only read 'Lord Alfred Hamilton came to visit me at my home today.' Nothing more was written."

He sucked in a breath and she waited a moment, before she continued, "The entries went back to normal. Detailing his activities and his meetings. Until one day, he wrote 'It is done.'" She looked down at her hands where they clutched Lady Hamilton's borrowed skirts. "I've never been able to determine if he wrote such a brief entry about his betrayal of you because he felt so very much or because he felt so very little. I suppose I'll never truly know."

Flint exhaled and leaned forward, one hand gripped the wooden rail as his head bowed. "Miss Ashe-"

"It was you, wasn't it?" Her voice broke a little as she asked the question she already knew the answer to, but needed to hear spoken out loud. "That day in Charles Town; it was you?"

He drew in another breath and stood straight, his gaze still fixed out at the sea. "Yes, it was."

She nodded, absently. "Was it quick?"

There was a pause and then he replied, "No."

"No," she repeated quietly. "No, I don't suppose it would have been."

They stood in silence and Abigail looked down at the deck below. Her eyes immediately found Billy where he stood tall amongst the crew, his eyes on her, even as he hauled in the rigging. Oh, she wanted to hate him. She wished with every fibre of her being that she could just _hate_ and linger in some kind of _hatred_ at him and at his words so carelessly spoken. Perhaps if she could find some way of hating, she could stop caring so much.

But she couldn't. It simply wasn't in her nature to hate. Point in fact, she currently stood beside a man that she had every reason in the world to hate. He'd just admitted that he killed her father and that was more than enough reason to despise the man.

Except, when she dug deep inside herself, she couldn't find it inside to hate Flint. Not when his reasons for his actions were steeped in betrayal and the fiercest love.

So, as she stared at Billy, who stared back at her with regret etched across his face, she found nothing inside herself but her own regrets.

Just as she couldn't hate Flint for what he'd done to her father, she couldn't hate Billy for his priorities.

 _And you don't want to, do you?_ she thought. _How horrible would it be to hate all the time?_

She breathed in and out as she thought rebelliously, _However, I can still be angry with the ridiculous man._

After some time, Flint straightened and looked over at her. She stared back and he nodded.

"Would you care to repair back to the salon?" he asked. "I need to look over the map and we can get a hammock set up for you." He looked away. "Madi is currently residing in the salon, along with myself and Mr Silver, but I'm sure you have no wish to stay below." He met her eyes again and she wondered if it was something close to ruefulness she saw reflected in his eyes. "I'm sure I could find some writing instruments if you've missed the habit of keeping a journal."

"I have," she said. "The island was sadly lacking in certain areas." She paused. "Although, I did discover I have a talent for fishing."

He raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? We'll have to see how you do on the open sea."

"You mentioned a map," she said. "Would you be able to show me where we were? The island, I mean."

"I'd be happy to," he said and he gestured with his hand. "After you, Miss Ashe."

"Thank you, captain," she said and she preceded him down the stairs. She spared the quickest of glances up to the rigging and saw Billy staring down at her. A futile sense of longing tugged at her and she forced herself to look away.

 _One step at a time, Abigail_ , she thought as she turned her back to the rigging. _You'll get through this like you've gotten through everything else. One step at a time._

* * *

Billy watched Abigail as she stood next to Flint and fought every single urge in his body that screamed for him to run over to her and pull her away from the man. He'd even felt the muscles in his legs ready themselves to stride, but he stopped when she met his eyes. The expression on her face was one he knew. That soft look that said she knew who he was and what he'd done and forgave him anyway. He felt a smile twitch onto his face, but stopped when her expression hardened slightly and she looked away.

Ah.

Right.

Not exactly forgiven then.

Fair enough.

 _Christ,_ he thought. _More than fair enough._

"Come on, Bones," someone shouted. "Put your back into it, man! Get up that rigging! Make sure you still know how!"

"Get fucked!" he shouted back with a laugh but did as asked, and headed up the rigging, a coil of rope over his shoulder.

He couldn't make things right with Abigail and fix what was a fucked up situation from the start, but this?

This he could do.

He could fucking work alongside his brothers and he relished the burn of the rope against his hands as he climbed. The wind whipped around him and he grinned at the feel of it against his freshly shaved chin. He pulled himself onto the mizzen and went to work. While he moved, moments of the meeting in the salon with Flint and Silver tugged at his mind.

"Murphy said something about edicts when we saw him," Billy'd said as the three men stood in the salon around the table and the map, trying desperately to move past the confrontation in the hall with Abigail. "What's that about?"

"The governor is trying to take control over Nassau by a, shall we say, soft and quiet method," Silver said. "He thinks that if he slowly shows the people what civilization can be, they'll be more than happy to fall in line." He looked at Billy. "They aren't."

"Half the island can't read so there's not much point to them," Flint added. "I'd almost consider the entire thing a petty annoyance, but there's enough of his 'soldiers' about the place to make things serious enough."

Billy frowned. "He got his mercenaries, then?"

"Enlisted men, or so we're told," Silver said. "Came from other Navy strongholds in the area. We still outnumber them, so they're sticking to arresting members of the Brotherhood on petty crimes."

"It'll work," Billy said rubbing his chin. "Seen it before. You just keep wearing people down with annoyances, and eventually they give in." He shook his head. "He knows he's outmanned and he also knows that the reason the Spanish haven't attacked is because of the Brotherhood and our firepower."

"Of course he does," Silver said. "Meaning he'll do something more dramatic than posting notices and when he does, it'll probably have far-reaching consequences."

"How are the supply lines holding up?" Billy asked.

"Just," Flint said. "After we see the Maroons and get back to Nassau, you need to see to the men on the island."

"Why are we going to the Maroon Island?" Billy asked.

"To update the queen," Silver said, fixing Billy with a look that said, 'I know you're still angry over what they did to the men, but stow it away.' Billy understood what he was saying, but he didn't bloody like it. "And apparently, word has spread that Nassau is something of a safe haven for those who are looking for one."

"A safe haven?" Billy repeated. "Really?"

"Your Miss Ashe seems to think so," Silver added and Billy narrowed his eyes. "The lady must be terribly capable if she's refusing your hand so vehemently."

"Are you trying to say something?" Billy asked, as Flint crossed his arms over his chest. "Because if you are, just say it. I've spent the last month on an island and if you're about to lecture me on something, I think I'd like a drink in my hand first."

"And a shave, no doubt," Silver said grinning. "And no. I have nothing further to add, except…" He looked away and then back at Billy. "She's smart and she's kind and she's determined. And that, my friend, is a heady combination. Believe me."

Billy glared at Silver and then at Flint, who looked on Silver with that damnable smirk of his.

"I need to see the men," Billy said, fed up with whatever wasn't being said and still sick to his stomach after being so mindlessly cruel in his words about Abigail.

Flint nodded. "I'm sure Mr DeGroot will want you back on the rigging. He's been muttering under his breath again."

"Christ," Billy said shaking his head. "Yeah, I'll find him." He glanced between the two men and wondered just how much he'd missed on that island and if he'd ever shake off the feeling that something fundamental had changed inside him.

The feeling lingered while he listened to the men in the mess and did his best to ignore Abigail sitting, as pretty and as calm as you like, drinking tea, of all things, with Madi. Billy had no hard feelings against the other woman, but still the sight of them talking earnestly did something to his insides.

And then when she walked away without a word…

Up in the rigging, he tugged hard on a line deliberately to feel the burn in his palm. He glanced back down and looked for her. She walked down the stairs, Flint close behind her and Billy fucking _burned_.

He hadn't felt this out of his depth since he woke up on that fucking beach surrounded British soldiers. He glanced back the way they came, but the island was no longer in sight. That fucking island. It'd messed with his head, clearly. He'd never considered… Christ, had he actually proposed to her just that morning?

Baring his teeth a bit as he tightened the lines, he cursed himself for a fool. And Billy Bones wasn't a fool. He could be a bit blind, he knew that, but he wasn't a fool and he knew marrying her would have ruined her life in a multitude of ways, but all the same…

 _Oh, for fuck's sake, man, get a hold of yourself,_ he thought. _You're fucking angry because her saying 'no' hurt your pride. And you've nicely returned the favour by being a prick to her, so call it even and move the fuck on. No letting anyone know how close you came to…whatever all that almost was._

Something whispered, _Oh, lad, you know damn well what it almost was._

But then, because there was nothing else to do in this situation that he'd made for himself, he went back to work.

Later, in the mess, he sat with Ben Gunn and some of the others, listening to DeGroot explain the repairs they'd done after the storm. Well, to be clear, he listened with half his attention on DeGroot, the other half was focussed on the table by the wall where Flint, Silver, Madi and Abigail sat. Silver seemed to be the only one talking and if the expressions of the others was anything to go by, he was being his usual charming self.

Billy took a long drink and returned his attention to DeGroot.

"'Course, we really ought to careen her soon," DeGroot said scowling into his mug. "Though I doubt we'll be able to convince the captain on it."

"The hull springs a leak, and it'll convince him," Billy said.

DeGroot made to say something else, but Dooley sat himself down between Billy and Ben, and leaned on Billy's shoulder.

"Right," he said and Billy smelled the rum on his breath. "A fucking month, Bones. A fucking _month_ alone on an island. I got a lot of coin riding on the fact that _you_ did a bit of riding yourself."

Billy froze and he heard Ben curse under his breath and DeGroot sighed.

"Dooley," DeGroot said. "Don't start something Billy'll have to finish."

"What?" Dooley asked grinning. "It's a fucking sensible question that led to a reasonable assumption." He clapped a hand on Billy's shoulder. "You had 'er, right? I mean, all alone and Jesus wept, she's such a –"

Before anyone could stop him, or before he even knew what he was doing himself, Billy was on his feet, his hands fisted in Dooley's shirt as he slammed the other man against the hull.

"Thought the crew had been told to be respectful, yeah?" Billy hissed. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

The men around them shouted and clapped as Dooley grinned. "Better had, Bones. Don't want you going soft on us now."

He pushed Billy's stomach and Billy backed off and ducked as Dooley threw the first punch. Something in Billy's brain yelled at him to not do this, not here, not in front of her, while another voice said to do it. Prove to himself and to the men and to Silver and Flint and to her that this was where he belonged.

He took a punch to the gut with a grunt but rebounded with a sharp jab to Dooley's kidneys.

"Fuck," Dooley hissed. "There he is, lads! Come on, Bones!"

"You miserable fuck," Bones growled and ducked another swing.

"Oi!" Silver shouted grinning. "If you lot are going to tear each other apart, do it where the rest of us aren't eating!"

The men around Billy roared and shoved him and Dooley towards the stairs. He caught the briefest glance at Abigail's face, her eyes round and wide-eyed with worry. He almost said something, but he caught sight of Flint staring at him. Practically daring him to reveal himself to the crew.

Billy looked away from them both and let himself be carried along by the men to the quarter deck.

The air was fresh as the sun set and Dooley grinned at him and immediately took a swing. Billy dodged him easily and as he set his jaw and curled his hand into a fist, he felt his blood surge in him. His arm swung and when his knuckles connected with Dooley's cheekbone and a familiar sting spread through Billy's hand as his skin spilt.

Yeah.

 _This_ is who he was. This is _what_ he was. There was no turning away from his nature, there never had been. Being on that island, being with her…that was a dream, a fairy tale.

 _This_ was real. Blood on his hands and on the deck beneath his feet, his brothers shouting around him as he took a hit to the ribs and returned it in kind to Dooley.

 _This_ was his life.

 _Damn it all to hell,_ he thought as he punched Dooley in the mouth, splitting the other man's lip, sending blood spraying to the deck. _God damn this all to hell._

And he swung again.


End file.
